Ashes
by TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo
Summary: The Winchester family is reeling after their latest tragedy. As they attempt to put the pieces back together, Delilah remains difficult to track, Everett is still missing, and there is little they have been able to do. Until now.
1. Chapter 1

::Welcome back! I can't thank you guys enough for all of the awesome read counts I'm getting. I would LOVE to hear what you think as you make your way through the latest installment of Winchester Ranch. I hope you enjoy.

lots of hugs and internetty love,

the girl with the dinosaur tattoo::

...

...

Chapter 1

The light was immense.

I couldn't open my eyes all the way; it was just too bright. I couldn't focus on anything in front of me. It was as if I was using them for the first time. I rolled over and did what I could to blink the blur away as I sat up, but nothing I did worked. The room surrounding me was bright white. Empty.

But blurry.

Sitting up, I leaned forward, holding my head between my legs, and tried to clear my mind. The echo of voices rang through my head louder than they ever had before and it was a little overwhelming. It was as if Angel Radio had been turned up full blast.

My eyes shot open, even though they had yet to perform their duties accurately. Angel Radio hadn't worked in my mind in months. Nothing had. My grace had been shoddy since that woman—since that _angel_ had done everything in her power to destroy my family. I had essentially been completely human since Everett had been taken. Which meant—

Memories began coming back in flashes; holding Everett in my arms, the brick and concrete tunnels coming down around us, telling Dean not to come after me…

I was dead.

I had to be.

Looking down at my hands, I strained and concentrated as best as I knew how. Castiel had told me once to see _through_ the light, to use what I knew as a Nephilim to use the light. Let it become a part of me. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, and opened them once more. The room came into crystal clarity and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Okay," I breathed, nodding slowly to myself. "Okay."

Slowly the idea that I was dead was coming back into focus, along with the room around me. The bright white of my surroundings told me that I was back in Heaven and slowly, my mouth went dry. I stared at my hands, turning them over in front of me, looking for the injuries that I knew I had sustained while I had been in the tunnel with my family. My skin was back to being wound-free. I was back in a body, even though I knew that my body was back on Earth, most likely broken beyond repair, even as a Nephilim.

Delilah had taken my grace.

It hit me again that I must be dead.

"Oh my god," I whispered shakily. "No."

"Hello, Grace Winchester," a voice greeted me from behind.

I whipped around, panic seeping into my very pores. I had abandoned my family. I had left my kids. I was dead.

"Hello?" I asked, turning towards the voice, but seeing no one. "Who's there?"

A woman walked slowly towards me, her long, dark hair in a neat bun at the base of her neck. She wore a gray business suit and walked stiffly as she observed me from across the room. "Do you remember me, Grace?" she asked.

Staring at her, I struggled to place her. "Mahalia," I whispered, remembering her from bringing Sammy home from Heaven all those years ago. "Yes. I remember."

"And you understand why you are here?"

I pressed my tongue up against the back of my teeth, struggling my own reality. "I'm—" I took a deep breath. "I'm dead."

"Let it never be said that you are slow, honey," she smiled warmly at me. "Welcome to Heaven."

…

Mahalia led me down the bright white halls and was attempting to explain that I had the ability to move about as I saw fit until my own Heaven had been assigned to me. After that, I was to stay in my own Heaven or the Gardens unless needed for something else.

"I know what you are thinking, Grace Winchester," Mahalia sighed as she watched me look longingly down the hall. "But you belong here. Your time on Earth is ended and your time here in Heaven is begun, Nephilim or not."

I licked my lips and tried to nod and agree, but everything in me argued against her. I held my tongue, though, and continued to follow her down the white hall. "Where is my mother?" I asked, knowing that Evangeline was lurking among the halls somewhere, I was sure of it. She would be waiting in the wings to see her eldest daughter take up residence in Heaven alongside her.

Mahalia turned towards me slowly and smiled gently. "She is on assignment," she replied. "Perhaps you can reconnect at a later date."

"Assignment?" I asked, "Okay." Panic was beginning to take hold again as I pictured my kids' faces and felt the desperation of separation. "Okay," I sighed, mostly to myself as I struggled to hold it together.

Turning to face me for the first time since we were reintroduced, Mahalia tilted her head and stared up at me. "It is difficult to make the transition," she began gently. "Especially if one is not expecting to die, but you're safe here, Grace. Your children will make the adjustments and they will be strong." She smiled and took a deep breath. "Your husband will heal as well."

"And my sister?" I asked, finally finding my voice.

"Your sister…" Mahalia pressed her lips together and sighed lightly. "Well, you sister is a Warrior of Heaven. She'll figure things out eventually."

I shook my head and turned in a full circle, trying to figure out what would happen next. If this was it, if this is where I would have to spend eternity, I wanted to at least be involved with my kids. I wanted to know that they were okay. I wanted to be able to watch Dean and make sure he was handling things without me, or at least watch him struggle.

"I want to be a Guardian," I blurted, turning back towards Mahalia. "I want to be able to check on my kids."

"There is plenty of time, Grace," Mahalia answered, folding her hands in front of her. "Your destiny will be revealed in all due time."

I shook my head and closed my eyes, "Destiny?" I asked. "I'm dead. This is kinda it as far as Destiny goes."

The corner of Mahalia's mouth tugged into a gentle smile. "Mm," she murmured, still holding her knowing, wry grin.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Time didn't seem to register here. I spent a lot of my time wandering up the perfectly white halls and meandering towards the Gardens that I was still not permitted to enter. While I walked, I continuously inspected my hands and arms, looking for any remnants of the battle that had killed me. I hadn't seen a mirror here in Heaven, so I hadn't had the chance to inspect my entire body, but earlier, I lifted my shirt to inspect the calavera tattoo on my hip that had been split in half when Ouriel had murdered Faith, a few years ago. Though my daughter was now just fine, the scar that had remained across my tattoo served as a constant reminder to stay vigilant.

That scar was gone.

I couldn't really wrap my head around it, considering that the tattoo was still there. How could my tattoos exist in Heaven, but not my scars?

"You receive the body you picture yourself in when you are assigned to Heaven," Mahalia answered my unspoken question as she approached without my knowing. "You obviously picture yourself with the tattoos, but not the scars."

"Sammy did the same thing," I muttered, mostly to myself. "That's right. I forgot." I glanced towards Mahalia. "So that means my other body is gone?"

"Your family gave you a hunter's funeral," came Mahalia's simple reply. "This is the body you have now."

I closed my eyes, trying not to picture my family standing around my burning corpse, especially my kids. The image made me ache. Automatically, I felt again for the rings that I knew were not on my fingers. I missed the comforting clink of when I spun them absentmindedly on my hand.

"What am I supposed to do here?" I asked, using my hands to gesture to the stark white. "I've been here for… well, I don't know how long I've been here, but it's been a while and I still don't have a Heaven of my own, and I'm still not able to go into the Gardens. I feel like I don't really belong."

Mahalia clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Well," she began. "Technically, you don't belong. You are Nephilim."

"Really? We're still going to play the half-breed card?"

"Since Father pardoned you," Mahalia continued over my comment, looking annoyed, "you must be patient while we develop new sets of bylaws for your kind."

"I don't have a 'kind'," I used my fingers as air quotes. "I'm the only one."

"Your children are your 'kind'. Not half-breeds, but considerable mixes. Obviously very important ones, considering they are The Gatekeepers. You and your children have introduced an entirely new facet to the angel lineage." The angel paused, inspecting her nicely manicured nails. "Considering the weight of your wings, we have to tread very carefully."

"The weight of my wings? What does that even mean?"

Mahalia paused to consider me for longer than I felt comfortable. "You know very little about yourself or your abilities, Grace Winchester," she shook her head slowly, looking disappointed. "I would have hoped that if given the pardon you have received, that you would explore as much about yourself as you could."

"I thought I had."

Once again, Mahalia pressed her lips together and sighed. "Mm," was all she said.

…

"Grace!" I heard my name echo down the halls and turned, wondering who would be that excited to see me here. "Grace, I still don't believe that you're here. You shouldn't be here!"

Finally, rounding the corner, I caught sight of my mother approaching, looking as distressed as I had ever seen her. "Mom," I breathed, "hi."

Finally approaching me, my mother almost seemed to hesitate, giving me a grand once over. She stared beyond my face, almost looking up, but finally grinned when she made eye contact with me. Her resemblance to Serra was uncanny and almost took my breath away. I could feel the lump of emotion climb its way up my throat and I fought the tears as hard as I could, but as my mother reached to hug me, I could feel them fall from my eyes and land in her auburn hair.

"Oh, my beautiful girl," Evangeline whispered into my hair. "I'm so sorry that you're here."

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, realizing that my mother's scent was exactly the same as I remembered from when I was ten. She hadn't changed a bit, I mean, aside from the fact that she was dead.

"It's good to see you, Mom," I whispered. "I'm sorry I'm here, too."

…

My mother was able to enter the Gardens and I wanted to follow her, but I was hesitant. "Is it okay?" I asked as we approached the door to enter. "Mahalia hasn't given permission to come into the Gardens yet."

"Honey," my mom smiled back at me. "You're Nephilim and have been pardoned by Father himself. I'm pretty sure you can do whatever the hell you want." She gestured behind me and lifted her eyebrows. "Besides, you would outrank anyone I know with those."

I glanced behind me, looking to see what my mother was pointing at. "What?" I asked, confused.

"Your wings, honey."

"My wings."

Evangeline tilted her head, finally understanding my confusion. "You don't know," she muttered, shaking her head as she walked out into the sunshine of the Gardens. I, of course, had been here before, but I had not been invited then. "The size of your wings matters here. There's an entire, complicated ranking system among the angels. It's how they decide who is a Guardian, who is a Watcher…who is a Seraph and so on and so on." She smiled broadly at me. "I knew yours would be impressive, but—" Gesturing towards the sky above my head again, she shook her head. "Being a half-breed certainly didn't stunt their growth."

I was genuinely confused. My wings should be almost non-existent, considering I was human when I was killed. It was the whole reason I died in the first place; my grace had been sapped and I was unable to self-heal. Of course, I would have died under that strain.

Evangeline was already shaking her head. "No, no, no," she whispered as she led us into the sunshine, obviously tapping into Angel Radio and listening to my thoughts. "Your grace wasn't completely gone. It's the whole reason you were reborn as quickly as you were, especially with your wings intact."

It was my turn to shake my head. "Mom," I argued. "I haven't been able to use my abilities for months. It's gotta be why the hall collapse killed me."

"Then how did you tell Dean not to come after you?" she stared at me expectantly, with her eyebrows in her hairline and looked too much like Serra. It made me ache. "You didn't say it out loud."

I shook my head slowly, trying to remember my last moments alive. "I had to have," I muttered, feeling like I was repeating myself. "I haven't been able to use my abilities in months."

My mother shrugged and turned away from me, admiring a cluster of beautiful purple flowers. "That's your doubt talking," she replied nonchalantly. "You're always so timid about what you can do. It's what held you back on Earth." She turned back towards me and put her hands on her hips, "You are Nephilim. You are the most powerful being here, whether you believe me or not."

I couldn't help the look that crossed my face, "Oh, yeah right." Shaking my head, I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes. "I'm half and half. Half angel abilities and half human abilities; never really mastering either one."

"That's the one thing I wish I could do over when it comes to raising you, Gracie," my mother began. "Your confidence has never been where it should be, yet your sister's is overly so. That girl…" she smiled, nostalgic. "She probably has so much confidence because you raised her, not me. Never once told her she couldn't do something, huh?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Mom, it was exactly the opposite. I told her she couldn't all the time. She just took it upon herself to constantly prove me wrong."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dean

 _Pick the kids up at three, pick the kids up at three, pick the kids up at three,_ I chanted as I loosened bolt after bolt on the 1971 Ford Mustang GT that was above me on my lift. I checked my watch again as I dropped another bolt into the pan below me. It was 2:39. If I didn't force myself to stop and clean up, I wouldn't be on time to get Lib.

It had been almost nine weeks since Grace's funeral. Nine weeks of working myself stupid, just to stay numb enough to keep the pain at bay. The guys at the shop gave me a wide berth, trying their best to be helpful or silent, but even if they hadn't, I wouldn't have noticed them much.

"It's two-forty," came Stuart's voice behind me. "Lib first, then Glory and Faith at preschool."

I clenched my jaw, nodding tightly. "Yeah, Stu," I muttered. "I got it. Thanks."

"She'll never let you forget it if you're late again," he continued. "Liberty is not nearly as forgiving at Glory is."

Picking up the pan of bolts, I sighed heavily. "One time," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm twelve minutes late _one time,_ and suddenly my seven-year-old is holding grudges." I tossed the pan onto my tool box and wiped my hands on the shop towel hanging from the wrench drawer. "Eleanor is ready to be primered," I continued, gesturing to the Mustang on my lift. "Her guts are all in the back of my bay. Engine block is looking good."

"Two forty-four," Stu commented, ignoring me.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," I sighed, tossing the towel towards my toolbox. "I'm going."

As long as I kept moving, I was almost okay, but as soon as the sun set, and I had the girls in bed with time to myself, things got harder. I'm sure the girls had already saved my life two or three times over, considering if they weren't around I would have already drowned myself in a bottle of Beam a night. I had to keep moving.

Stu tossed me my keys as I headed out of the garage as my phone began to ring. I unlocked Baby's door, glanced at the screen of my phone to see Santiago's name and took a deep breath. "Hey, Santi," I greeted gruffly. "What's up?"

I had gotten rather fond of the guy, especially after we spent more than a few nights drinking well into the night, sharing hunting stories about Grace. He had become the comfort that Sam couldn't afford to be, considering Serra was so volatile; one minute, she was calm and collected, grieving appropriately with the rest of us, and the next, she was angry and violent, shooting at cans in the field between our houses or destroying something out in the barn. Sam had his plate full.

"I got a lead on the witches that follow Delilah," he answered, his voice overly loud and the connection full of static. "They're still clustered around a farm town in Minnesota, not far from the Wisconsin border," Santi explained. "A friend of mine says there's a coven of witches sheltering in place, looking like they're waiting for orders."

"A coven?" I asked, shaking my head. "There weren't enough witches left alive after that mess in Wisconsin to be called a coven. You sure they're friends of Delilah?"

"Wouldn't hurt to check," Santiago commented. "I'm headed up there with Tulley and Fred. Shouldn't be gone more than a few days. I'll keep you in the loop if we hear anything."

I pressed my lips together and nodded as I turned onto the interstate. "Thanks, Santi," I muttered. "Don't know what I'd do without you guys."

"Grace was family," Santiago replied quietly. "Which makes you all family as well. We will find Everett and we will bring him home. That much I am sure."

After the line went dead, I tossed my phone onto the seat next to me and took a deep breath, shaking my head slowly. "I'm glad one of us is," I sighed, trying to hold onto the same hope that Santi held so dear.

…

"Mr. Winchester!"

I turned towards the sound of my name and took a deep breath, trying to be as adult as I could as Liberty's teacher approached me, obviously wanting to talk to me. "Yeah?" I asked, holding Lib's hand. I glanced down at her, trying to read her face for a hint as to what was coming.

"Hi," the teacher greeted, slightly breathless. She smiled and did the once-over that I would never get used to as she smoothed her hair and stood a little straighter, forcing the buttons across her chest to pull. I tried not to roll my eyes.

"I just wanted to take a minute to see how you all were holding up?" she continued. "Liberty seems to be handling things well. Her academics haven't suffered in the least. She's a smart cookie." The teacher glanced down at Lib and grinned. "You did really well on your assessments last week!"

Taking a deep breath, I smiled weakly down at my daughter. "Yeah," I nodded, lifting my eyebrows questioningly at the teacher, trying my damndest to remember her name. "Missus…?"

"Oh, it's Miss. Miss Sullivan," she answered, raking her fingers through her light brown hair and batting her eyes.

"You know her name, Daddy," Liberty chastised. "I've told you a few times."

I pressed my lips together and pointed to the Impala. "Yeah, smarty pants, how about you go sit in the car and I'll talk to Miss Sullivan without your supervision. Thanks."

Lib gave me a fake smile but turned and headed off towards the car anyway. I took a deep breath and faced the teacher once more. "We're fine," I stated, trying not to get into the same conversation that I already had with the principal and two of Grace's old teacher friends. "Lib's fine, or as fine as she can be, the other kids are the same. I'm doing my best here," I took a quick breath, shaking off the tightness in my voice. "Is Lib acting out? Did she do something wrong?"

Miss Sullivan shook her head slowly as the smile slid off her face. "Oh," she tilted her head, "no, nothing like that. It's," she pressed her lips together, "I'm actually starting to get worried that she is adjusting so well. Losing a mother…" Miss Sullivan faded off and shook her head again, wringing her hands together. "It's not something that a child should have to go through."

"But you said she's adjusting well," I said again. "So what's the issue?"

The teacher sighed, furrowing her eyebrows as she tried to think of how to phrase her sentence to me. "Mr. Winchester," she began carefully. "When a child doesn't have the chance to grieve naturally, that emotion has nowhere to go. It's like a wound that festers. I'm concerned because Liberty doesn't seem to have any of the normal signs of grieving appropriate for her age." Miss Sullivan let her hands fall to her sides. "I'm worried because she doesn't seem to even acknowledge that her mother is…" she hesitated on the last word, just like everyone else did, "dead."

I stared at the teacher for longer than she felt comfortable, I knew, but the truth was; I had noticed the same thing. Liberty had never admitted that Grace was gone. She never cried, she never sought the same comfort I had needed late into the night. The closest thing I had ever got from Lib was that she missed Grace, but something in my gut told me that it wasn't the same thing.

Pressing my tongue into the back of my teeth, I could feel my expression soften, knowing that Miss Sullivan only had my daughter's best interest at heart. "I know," I finally breathed. "I know, I've noticed too. Every kid's different, though, right? Maybe this just _is_ how she grieves?"

"How are your other children?"

My breath caught in my throat, realizing that we had never officially told anyone else outside the ranch that Everett was still missing. "They're—they're taking it a little harder," I lied. "The twins are acting out a bit and the baby is, well," I shook my head. "She's a baby. Kinda hard to read."

Miss Sullivan nodded, understanding. "It's possible that as the eldest child, Liberty feels the need to stay strong for the others," she explained. "I will continue to keep you in the loop if anything changes."

"Thanks," I nodded, pressing my lips together.

As I turned to leave, the teacher got my attention once more, "Oh, and Mr. Winchester," she smiled, dipping her head and allowing her hair to roll towards her face in what I assumed was a flirtatious move, "if you need _anything,_ anything at all, please let me know." She extended her hand and held out a slip of paper. "This is my phone number," she blushed. "My cell. You can call me anytime, day or night."

I had no choice but to take the paper and fold it into my fist. I nodded, slowly, doing everything I could not to laugh or run. Miss Sullivan couldn't have been more than twenty-eight, and here I was, a widower, two years shy of forty, and still getting phone numbers handed to me. Grace would have laughed.

"Okay," was all I could muster. "Thanks." I locked my teeth together and turned towards the Impala. Lib was pressed into the rear passenger window, making faces at me as I approached. I threw myself into the driver's seat and started the engine, almost peeling out as I took off, away from the school.

…

I pulled up to Glory and Faith's preschool-slash-day care and took a deep breath as I turned to stare at my daughter. "So," I began, trying to find the words. "How you feelin' lately, kiddo?"

Lib looked up from the picture book about cars and smiled at me. "I'm good, Daddy," she began, putting her book down. "Miss Sullivan is worried about me though." Her face lit up and she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, "And she _likes_ you!"

Rolling my eyes, I chuckled at the expression on my daughter's face. "Yeah, don't worry about that," I rubbed my face with one hand. "I want to know how you _are._ Are you sad? Do you want to talk about Momma?"

"Is she coming home soon?" Lib's lips spread into a wide, open mouthed grin.

I watched Libby carefully and considered Miss Sullivan's words again. _She doesn't seem to acknowledge that her mother is dead._ I took a deep breath and turned my body towards Lib, trying to explain without being too rough, "Meatloaf," I started, making a face, "Momma's not coming home. She's…she's dead, baby. She died when we were in Wisconsin. We talked about this, remember?"

Liberty pressed her lips together the way she did when she was annoyed. "She's just not here, Daddy," she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. "She'll be back soon."

"Lib—"

"I can _hear_ her," Liberty added forcefully, staring at me through her mirror-green eyes. "Momma. I know _you_ think so, but she's _not_."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Grace

I walked through the Gardens again, this time alone. My mother had duties to perform as a Watcher, so I was, for the first time, left to my own devices. I had learned quite a bit since ending up in Heaven, namely that my mother is not an angel. I had a misconception (as apparently, so many do) that she did not become an angel when she entered Heaven, but simply someone else with a job.

"You're still here?" a voice came from behind me and I had been so far into my own thoughts, I hadn't heard her approach.

"What?" I asked, turning towards the woman standing behind me. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled shyly and shrugged, "No one, really. I'm a friend of your mother's. Abigail," she explained. "We died around the same time. Made friends."

"Oh, hi," I smiled weakly and avoided her handshake. Apparently, old habits die hard.

Abigail took a breath and raised her eyebrows. "I'm just surprised you're still here. I would have thought you would have wanted to go home."

I was confused, "I'm not just visiting," I explained. "I died. I can't just go home."

"You're Nephilim," Abigail stated. "You can kinda do anything you want."

"Mom said the same thing," I muttered, shaking my head. "But Mahaila said that they're getting a personal Heaven ready for me, to stay."

"Because they don't want you out and about, honey," Abigail answered. "Don't you think it's weird that the same angels that tried to kill you all those years ago now want to corral you into a Heaven after being…how did you die?"

"In a building collapse."

"Bricks and mortar? Are you kidding me?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "No, my grace was sapped. I was mortal." I was repeating myself again. No one was listening.

"With wings like that, honey, your grace was intact enough. Trust me."

Again, I tried to turn and see what everyone kept gesturing to, but my eyes were blind to their expanse. I rolled my eyes. "Look," I sighed. "If I could come and go as I pleased, Mahalia would have told me."

"You're giving angels too much credit."

I pursed my lips and shrugged as we came to a door. "I'll tell you what," Abigail said suddenly, motioning to the door. "I'll prove it to you right now."

Staring at her, I blinked once, unamused.

"Only those with angelic blood or grace would be able to open that door," she touched the knob and pointed to her hand. "If you have the right boxes checked, the knob glows blue and the door lights from behind. I can't do it. I'm just another dead human." Abigail stepped aside and raised her dark eyebrows. "Touch it."

"Abigail, I don't—"

"Just humor me. Touch it."

Resigning to the pressure, I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said, "but I don't think I'm even supposed to be in the Gardens yet, so if we get in trouble because I'm in here, touching stuff I shouldn't be…"

"I'll take the fall. Whatever."

Slowly, I reached towards the silver door knob and braced myself as I finally made contact. Abigail was already smiling at me, waiting to see my reaction, and sure enough, as I stood there, the knob began to glow blue and the light behind the door was astounding.

I shook my head and released the door, disbelief flooding through me. "My grace was gone," I whispered. "I was human."

"No," Abigail shook her head. "You are _not_ human. You. Are. Nephilim."

"I was hoping that you would choose to stay," Mahalia's voice came from behind me as I continued to stare at the door. "You belong here, among your own kind."

I turned, dropping my hand and narrowing my eyes at the angel. "You knew," I accused. "You knew I was still angelic and you kept it from me?"

"I didn't keep anything from anyone," Mahaila defended herself. "You just didn't ask." Abigail was in the midst of turning to walk away from the argument, but Mahalia's voice stopped her. "Wait," she commanded. "How did you know?"

It was the first time Abigail looked intimidated. "I, uh," she muttered, "I'm friends with her mother."

"Back off, Mahalia," Evangeline said quietly, approaching from behind us. "We were bound to find out one way or another. I had a feeling right from the start."

"She belongs here," Mahalia argued, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "With her own kind."

"I am not an angel. I don't have a _kind_ ," I repeated, shaking my head as the truth began to come to the surface. " _That's_ why you want to keep me here; because I'm Nephilim." I glanced back at my mother and shook my head in disbelief. "…The most powerful being here," I muttered, quoting her. I whipped around to face Mahalia, putting it all together. "The angels finally got me into Heaven on a _technicality_. They've wanted me dead from the beginning, not because I'm an 'abomination'," I turned towards my mother again. "I'm _competition_."

Mahalia's expression softened then, as she looked down at her feet, seemingly embarrassed. "I am not one of those who wish you dead," she whispered. "I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" I asked, feeling like I needed to sit down. I didn't have to stay here. I could go home to my kids. I could go home to Dean. "I don't need protection."

"You do until you get your missing grace back," Mahalia stepped towards me and raised her hand as if she wanted to comfort me. "Grace, you're still very weak. You will not be able to defend yourself until your grace is once again intact."

"And then, what," my mom chimed in. "She gets her grace back and she can go home?"

Mahalia took a deep breath and closed her eyes slowly. "If they knew I was telling you this…" she whispered. "Yes, technically, you are dead, and you were issued another vessel for the remaining grace you have, but you are weak. Vulnerable. If you go home without the rest of your grace, the chances are very great that you will just end up back here in yet another vessel with even less grace." She sighed and tilted her head. "Eventually, Delilah may figure out how to take it all, and after that, there is no reset button."

I shook my head slowly, in complete disbelief. "So, if I get my grace back, I can go home," I stated, mostly to myself. "I can just leave? No one will try and stop me?"

Mahalia took a deep breath, but didn't commit to an answer.

"Mahalia," I pressed, feeling frustrated. "Tell me the truth," I demanded.

A strange look passed over the angel's face; her eyes widened slightly, and she looked a little glazed over. "I would not advise it," she answered a little mechanically. "But no, no one can stop you from leaving."

My mother leaned forward and tilted her head, inspecting Mahalia carefully. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "Mahalia?"

The look on Mahalia's face was gone as quickly as it came, and her dark eyes darted towards my mother. "There's nothing wrong with me, Evangeline," she answered.

"Then what was that?" Abigail answered. "You sounded different when you answered."  
Mahalia looked confused. "I answered? Answered who?"

Evangeline flicked her hazel gaze towards me, narrowing her eyes. "It was you," she whispered. "You commanded the truth. She gave it to you."

I could feel my mouth fall open slightly, knowing only one other person that could demand the truth, and get it when he wanted it.

My son.

Thinking of Everett suddenly reignited my need to get back to Earth and get my grace back. "Okay," I said, holding up my hands. "I'm leaving. I'm going to get my grace back."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Castiel

I missed Grace.

I missed her more than I should, and that kept me from going home to the Winchester family. After being banished by Delilah during the fight in the dark halls, I was locked in my own mind for longer than I care to admit because of her spell. Finally, I was able to wake, and in attempting to make my way back to the battle, I felt it. I felt Grace's death in the depths of my soul.

Dean's grief simply was more than I could handle. I could not bring myself to be in his presence, let alone go to her funeral, so I continued the search for their son to attempt to keep myself occupied.

I had found nothing.

Delilah had all but disappeared, leaving no trace of a trail. I couldn't even hear Everett's thoughts any longer, so either Delilah had learned to shield him from the outside world, or he was dead.

I refused to acknowledge the possibility. I couldn't.

There was something to be said about solitude. I had the chance to think without being interrupted by one of the Winchester children, without being interrupted by Dean or Sam, without being interrupted by either of the Browning sisters…it was miserable. What I wouldn't give to hear one of them bicker at one another, to hear the pop of a beer bottle being opened, or the rumble of the Chevelle or Impala as it pulled into the driveway.

Slowly, I could no longer ignore the pull of Liberty's thoughts and allowed myself to be wrapped in the comfort of her familiarity. She worked on her homework as she watched her younger sisters play on the rug in front of the television. Through her eyes, I watched Dean start to make dinner; pulling chicken out of the refrigerator and put a pot of water on to boil. He rubbed his face and closed his eyes, and I knew from experience that he was dealing with his own grief for Grace as I watched.

I suddenly felt guilty about my own grief. Dean loved her, had been entwined in her very being; more than I would ever understand. It was wrong of me to abandon him when he needed his family the most. I had counted on Sam and Serendipity to be there for him, but I had forgotten that he considered me family…we had considered each other family. I needed to go home.

…

Castiel

"Holy shit, it's good to see your face," Dean pulled me into an embrace as soon as he opened the front door. "Where have you been?"

I returned the hug and closed my eyes, feeling a sense of relief in seeing Dean. "It's good to see you too," I muttered, muffled into his shoulder. "I have been searching for Everett, among other things."

Leaning away from me, Dean swallowed hard, nodding once as he pressed his lips together, forcing his dimples to show. "Anything?" he whispered, narrowing his eyes.

I hated myself for shaking my head. "No," I answered quietly. "Nothing."

Nodding again, Dean turned and walked back towards the kitchen. He glanced at the stairs, and I knew he was listening for his daughters. Keeping his voice lowered, he sighed, "You missed her funeral."

His words stung. "I know," I answered, hanging my head. "I couldn't…I didn't know what to say."

"None of us did," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "Do. Doesn't change the fact that we needed you."

Dean Winchester was, if nothing else, very predictable. I was the first person that he had the opportunity to blame for Grace's death. He knew her death wasn't my fault, but I was currently the only one strong enough to shoulder the potential guilt. Dean had to share the load with someone.

"I know," I whispered. "I'm here now."

Clenching his jaw, Dean looked out the kitchen window, nodding once to himself. "Okay then," he whispered.

…

Castiel

"Santiago called me this afternoon," Dean began as Sam sat down at the table after dinner. "Said he heard about a lead on a coven in Minnesota."

"A coven?" Serra asked, glancing towards her brother in law. "Where in Minnesota?"

Dean shrugged and glanced at me. "I dunno," he answered, taking a drink of his beer. "But he said it sounded promising and that he was taking Tulley and Fred with him. Said he would call if he heard something."

I took a deep breath and inspected each of the people surrounding the table. Sam was as he always was; calm and regulated, taking slow and steady breaths as he nursed his first beer of the night. Dean was much the same, taking care to keep his emotions in check, but fidgeted with anything within reach. I noticed that his hands were more calloused than normal, still stained with grease from his auto shop. Obviously, he was back working on cars himself, not just allowing the mechanics to do the dirty work. I knew it was comforting to him; taking things apart and putting them back together gave Dean a sense of order.

Serendipity was barely contained.

Grace's little sister was easily on her fifth beer of the night and used her arms to support herself on the table. She drank sloppily and did her best to blink with both of her bloodshot eyes at the same time. "He hears anything," she was saying, "I'm going up there, shake some things loose."

"You need to stay employed," Dean answered. "We will go if we need to go, but for now, you need to make sure you keep your job."

"Fuck my job," Serra answered, slamming the beer bottle on the table. "My sister is… _dead_ , my nephew is still missing, and we're just sitting on our thumbs, going to our fucking jobs every day, and just _letting it all happen._ " She took another drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I don't know about you, but I can barely live with myself."

"Serra," Sam began, but she cut him off, standing up violently from the table.

"Don't 'Serra' me," she spat. "As soon as I find my keys, I'm gone."

With that, she turned and stumbled towards the back door, opened it, and disappeared into the night.

Dean pursed his lips and leaned forward, towards his brother. "'Find my keys'?" he asked, repeating Serra. "You hid her keys?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and ran both hands through his hair. "As soon as she heard that Santi called, she was bent on getting up there, afraid she was missing out on some vengeful scheme." He licked his lips and shook his head. "I wouldn't put it past her to use the witches to…" he faded off, unwilling to continue.

"You said she was doing better," Dean commented quietly.

"She was, a little, until Santiago called."

Dean leaned back into his chair and sighed heavily. "Tell me you know what to do," he muttered, turning towards me. "Tell me that you've got some ideas."

I pressed my lips together and shook my head sadly. "I am completely lost," I admitted. "Grace seemed to be the glue that held this family together."

"Tell me about it," Dean agreed as he stood from the table, gathering plates and empty bottles. "The only ones that aren't going bat shit are the girls. Lib and Glory seem to be just fine with the whole arrangement." He turned from the sink after dumping the bottles into the recycle and rubbed his face. "If I didn't know any better, I would think that Lib is convinced that Grace is still alive."

I furrowed my eyebrows, leaning forward in my seat. "Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Lib keeps saying stuff like 'Momma's not here' or 'when is she coming home'?" Dean explained. "She hasn't cried. She's never even said the word 'dead' out loud." He looked uncomfortable as he ran a hand through his hair, forcing it to stand completely upright.

"What, Dean?" Sam asked, looking concerned. "Did something else happen?"

"Today when I picked her up from school, her teacher mentioned that she might be bottling her emotions up," he replied. "Said that might be more damaging than actually going through the grieving process."

Without warning, Serra stumbled back into the house, tripping on the door frame on her way in. All of us turned to stare at the younger Browning sister, watching to see what she would do next.

"You locked the fucking doors," she sighed, staring at Sam. "And since I don't have any keys…" she faded away and shrugged. "I guess you're stuck with me."

"Awesome," Dean muttered, shaking his head. "Anyway, the teacher noticed that she doesn't seem upset about Grace and was worried, which of course, makes my blood pressure skyrocket."

"The teacher?" Serra asked, "Whose teacher?"

"Lib's."

Sam took a deep breath and we turned to listen to his reply, "It's nice to know she's paying attention," he commented. "And she's probably right."

Serra narrowed her eyes and weaved in her seat as she considered her next words. "This is Pouty Lips, right? Miss…what is her name? Miss?"

"Sullivan," Dean replied, digging his hand in his pocket and tossing a crumpled piece of paper onto the table.

Serendipity reached for it, flattening it out on the table. Slowly, she raised her eyes to stare at Dean and she set her jaw as she tilted her head. I leaned back involuntarily, seeing the look on her face. "This is her phone number," Serra stated, her voice icy.

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

"Not the school's phone number," Serra continued, holding the piece of paper up to Dean's face. "Her _personal_ phone number."

Sam couldn't stop the gentle smile that touched the corners of his mouth, already knowing where his wife was going with this conversation. She whipped around to stare at him and the grin immediately slid off his face.

"She's been dead nine weeks and you're traipsing around, getting a woman's phone number?"

Dean tilted his head and rolled his eyes. "Sere, you've got it all wrong," he began, but she cut him off, standing from her seat at the table and shoving the paper into his face.

"No," Serra continued. "I don't 'got it all wrong'. You have a piece of paper. A piece of paper from a twenty-something, single woman with her _personal_ phone number written on it." She turned the paper towards her own face. " _With_ her _first_ name! _Natalie_ even managed a little heart above the i. Isn't. That. Sweet." Serra stumbled as she lunged towards Dean and he held out his arm, catching her before she fell.

"You about done?" Dean asked, supporting Serra's weight. "She came on to _me_. She gave me her number, yes, but I really think she's got Lib's best interest at heart. Bottom line, she sees me as a single, widower dad that could use any help that he can get."

"She wants to get in your pants."

Dean rolled his eyes again, a smile playing at his lips. "Can you blame her?"

Serra made a face, "Ugh, get off me."

"I'm not interested in her, Serra. Cool it." Dean leaned over and plopped Serra into the closest chair at the table with Sammy looking on. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Sam nodded and sighed. "She doesn't mean it," he added quietly, motioning to Serra as she leaned on the table, close to sleep.

Dean swallowed and pressed his lips together. "Yeah, she does," he replied sadly. "Your kids finally passed out in Everett's room."

"Can I leave them here?" Sam asked, helping Serra to her feet.

Dean had already started towards his room. Without turning around, he gestured vaguely to the dark living room, "You always do."

Sam sighed again and turned to me, "Glad you're back Cas," he muttered. "I'm sorry it's not under better circumstances."

I nodded gratefully at Sam, "Thank you, Sam," I answered. "Me too."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Grace

Standing in the middle of the familiar playground that was used for the Gateway to Heaven, I took a deep breath and took in my surroundings. I was back on Earth and finally ready to get back to business. I stared down at my fingers and flexed my hands, taking in each individual movement. I felt different somehow; stronger, more aware. I could hear _everything_ with an intensity that I wasn't used to, right down to the wind in the leaves and the wings of the birds.

The entire world hummed in my head.

I turned towards the angel guards that were constantly at their places on the bench near the sandbox. They didn't make the move to approach me, but looked in the opposite direction, almost deliberately ignoring me. I turned on the toe of my boot and headed off in the opposite direction.

…

I didn't want to steal the car, but I really had no choice. I had already made the decision to find my grace before I went home to my family because I couldn't risk Delilah finding us without my abilities to defend my children. I would never be so unprepared again.

The car was a dilapidated, late seventies Chevy Nova; one that would never find its way into my husband's shop. The doors were rusted out, the seats were torn, and it smelled terribly like fish, but it would serve my purposes. I had to make it to Bill Griffin's.

A trip that normally took about four hours only took about three, even with a stop to swindle some gas out of a midwestern gas station. I pushed the Nova to her limits and was beyond grateful when I came to a stop in the familiar gravel parking lot. I got out and stretched, popping my back after closing the door gently.

I approached the pawn shop slowly, wondering how Billy would react to my sudden appearance after being assumed dead. The lights were off, and the security fences were stretched across the inside of the windows, giving the shop an abandoned look. Momentarily, I wondered if Billy was even there.

Cupping my face, I tried to see inside, but the front of the shop was dark, and it was impossible to tell if Billy was in the back or not. I was about to turn and walk around the other side of the pawn when I heard the crush of gravel under truck tires. Turning, I took a deep breath, seeing Bill drive up in his old Dodge.

He put the truck into park and got out slowly, not breaking eye contact with me as he closed the door. His eyes got wider and wider as he approached me, barely breathing.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked quietly as he stood in front of me, inches from contact.

I took a slow breath and shook my head. "No," I whispered. "It's me."

Suddenly, a flick of cold water hit my face. I smiled lightly, knowing that I just had passed Billy's first test. "Gracie," Billy breathed, tears welling in his eyes. "How?"

Pressing my lips together, I took a deep breath. "One of the many perks of being Nephilim," I commented, holding back a wry grin. "I guess I have a built-in reset button."

"Your grace…" Bill began, spreading his hands to reach and touch me. Suddenly, a cold blade pressed into my arm, drawing blood. I glanced up to Bill and pressed my lips together again as my skin automatically stitched itself back together. Test two was a pass as well. He shook his head, continuing, "Your grace was gone. You were mortal."

"I thought so too," I agreed. "But," I spread my arms and gestured to my own body, "as you can see. I still had enough."

Bill took another two steps and closed the gap between us. He wrapped his arms around me slowly, almost afraid that he would somehow damage me or that I would disappear. "How long have you been back?" he asked into my hair. "What did Dean say? Did he flip?" He pulled away and gave me a watery smile.

I took a slow breath. "I haven't seen him yet," I admitted quietly. "I came here first."

"What? Why?" he asked, holding me by the shoulders. "Grace, you need to go home and see your kids."

Taking a step back, I shook my head. "I can't risk it, Billy," I managed. "I need to get the rest of my grace back before I go home. I can't risk the same thing happening again and end up with even less grace than before. One of these times, I might not be able to come back."

"But your girls…" Billy was shaking his head. "Dean. They're all so…" he pressed his lips together. "Grace, they need you home. They need to know you're okay."

"Not yet," I repeated, standing my ground. "I need to be able to take on Delilah and not risk my family. I'm not going against her without being able to put her down."

Resigning to my side, Bill finally nodded. "Then what do you need, angel?" he asked. "You never come to me without needing something or without a plan."

I took a deep breath and stood a little straighter, catching my reflection in the glass doors of Billy's pawn shop. I could feel the muscles in my face relax as I stared, approaching the glass and finally understanding what everyone in Heaven was talking about. I could finally see them.

My wings were massive.

I approached the glass slowly, my mouth widening as I came closer. I had only ever seen their shadow, and even then, they had looked a little peaked, a little worse for wear. Here, in front of me, these wings were giant; their entirety unable to fit in the reflection before me, thick with a feather-looking, with a gold and opalescent shimmer.

They were beautiful.

"Gracie?" Bill asked, bringing my attention back to the current situation. "What do you need?"

"I need," I began, tearing my gaze from my reflection, "to know everything you know about finding an angel's grace once it's outside its body." I turned to face him completely, "I need to find my grace so I can kill Delilah. I need to find my son." I took a deep breath, steadying my emotions. "And I need something to eat."

…

Billy watched me eat my second sandwich, supporting his head with the palm of his hand as he flipped through the ancient book in front of him. "Says here," he began, "that an angel has a special connection with his or her grace. If it ever is separated from the cosmic being, the being will be able to hear it." He flicked his gaze up at me again without moving his head. "It should call to you, according to this."

My mouth was full, so I nodded in acknowledgement.

Narrowing his eyes, Billy took a deep breath. "How is it you're so hungry, child? You were never one to eat too much."

"I haven't eaten since I woke up," I replied, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I wasn't hungry in Heaven. There was never any food. I guess when you're there, you don't need to eat."

"Angels don't need to eat at all," Billy commented, a wry smile finding his lips. "But you're no angel."

I grinned. "Half and half," I sighed. "Once I stole the car, I was starving, but didn't want to stop."

Bill glanced back down at his book and took a breath, sitting up straighter. "Okay," he said, getting back to business. "So, if it says that you can hear it, give it a good listen. You hear anything?"

I took another drink of the soda that Bill had given me and took a slow breath, closing my eyes and listening. As I concentrated, I could hear more than I ever had been able to before. The scrape of insects underground and the flick of feathers as birds soared through the midwestern sky.

I could hear the voices of my children, talking among themselves as they watched my husband work on my sister's Chevy truck out in our barn. Each of the girls' voices was as clear as if I was sitting right next to them. They talked excitedly about the possibility of going to Dean's shop later that afternoon and how they missed seeing Stuart. Dean answered questions with a smile on his face from under the truck, laughing when Liberty asked if she could work on the cars once they got there.

It was like I was home and it made my chest ache.

I concentrated harder and focused on listening for my son. Everett always had a very distinct sound in my mind, very different from the girls. I could barely make out his signature, even when concentrating as hard as I was, making me believe that he was being kept in a warded location, far away from wandering eyes…and ears.

Sighing inwardly, at least knowing Everett was alive, I stretched my senses as far as I could go and recalibrated my thoughts to ignore anything that wasn't familiar to me on a personal level. I filtered out my kids, my overly depressed sister, and my husband; I silenced the sounds of my niece and nephew. I even had to focus on quieting my brother-in-law as he studied ancient text on Gatekeepers. Finally, I shut out Cas' voice as well. He sounded lonely, like his mind was searching for a companion that he was missing. It occurred to me that the voice he was searching for was me.

I shook my head. He would have to wait as well.

Finally, I reached inside myself, listening for something that would share my own signature; my own pulse. Something that was familiar and called out towards me much the same way as my children did. Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at Billy, barely breathing.

"I can hear it," I whispered.

Billy was practically falling out of his seat at the table. "Where?" he whispered back. "Where is it?"

I stood, closing my eyes once more. "I don't know," I answered, heading towards the door. "I can't see, but I can follow it. It's pulling me."

Standing from his chair, Bill cleaned the food trash into the trash can with the swipe of his arm across the table's surface. He dusted off his hands and closed the drapes that hung from the front windows of the pawn shop. As I walked calmly out the front door, Billy grabbed an old newspaper and a large marker and scrawled, 'Gone until further notice', across it, and taped it into the door. He then grabbed the keys to his truck and tossed them to me, jogging to the passenger side after locking the door to his shop.

"Are you sure about coming with me?" I asked, glancing back towards his pawn. "I don't know how long this will take and I don't know what kind of risks we're running here."

"Angel, you're not getting rid of me that easily," he muttered, shaking his head. "If you think I'm gonna let you go after that call without being armed, and alone, you've got another thing coming. I wish you'd call that husband of yours. He's handy in a fight." Bill got comfortable in the passenger seat as I started up the truck. "And to top it all off, I'm pretty sure he's gonna skin me alive once he finds out I knew you were living before he did."

"He'll get over it," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'm more worried about my sister."

Billy pursed his lips and nodded slowly as I drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway. "Yeah," he agreed. "She does tend to get a little pissy."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Grace

"So, what have you been doing for nine weeks, if you haven't been here on Earth?" Bill asked about an hour into the drive. "Playing Bingo with the old ladies up there in Heaven?"

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "No," I grumbled. "I wandered around for days and then started to hang out in the Gardens with my mom and her friend Abigail." I glanced at him as I decided to change freeways. I wanted to go north, as north as I possibly could. "Time didn't exactly pass the same way as it does here, though. It didn't feel like nine weeks. Felt more like nine days."

Bill shook his head as he made a note on the pad he kept in the glove box. "Finally decided on north, did you?" he asked, pointing to the highway sign with his pen. "We've been northeast for the last hour or so."

"Yeah, it kinda feels like I'm going home, but it's past that," I replied. "Way past that."

We drove in silence for about an hour as I flipped through the radio, trying to find any familiar songs or stations. The hum in the back of my mind was getting stronger, slowly but surely, but I wasn't close to slowing down. Billy had fallen asleep, leaning up against the window with his mouth open. I glanced at him and smiled lightly, grateful for his companionship. I had no idea what we would come up against, but at least I wouldn't have to do it alone.

My thoughts drifted back towards my family and how close to them I was about to be. Lawrence was only about forty-five minutes away and I knew it was going to take all that I was not to hurl myself off the road and fly right up the gravel driveway, just to squeeze my kids and kiss my husband, but I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk being the beacon that I knew I would be when it came to attracting Delilah.

I had to be ready to fight her. I had to be ready to be unexpected.

…

"Where are we?" Bill asked, stretching as he got out of his truck. He glanced at his watch and made another note on his yellow notepad.

"What are you writing down?" I asked, nodding towards the notepad. "And we're in Lamoni, Iowa, just over the border." I nodded towards the burger place in the middle of the parking lot. "I'm hungry again. You've got to be starving."

"We'll it's been about six hours," he muttered, smiling to himself. "Yeah, I could eat." We fell into step next to each other as we headed inside. He took a deep breath and finally answered, "I'm keeping track of the freeways and timeline you're taking on this little road trip of yours."

"Why?"

Billy shrugged, holding the door open for me. "I dunno," he sighed. "It's just something I do. If we ever need to take the same trip, hit the same stops, I'll be ready. Seems like something that we need to be prepared for."

I gasped slightly, seeing my reflection in the glass again as I walked through the doors. Billy noticed and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"You see something I don't?" he asked, following me inside. "You've done that twice now."

We ordered our food and wandered to a booth in the back of the restaurant before I answered his question. Finally, I took a deep breath and rolled my head from side to side, preparing myself for what I was about to say. "I've never been able to see them before," I began, keeping my voice lowered.

"See what?" he asked, leaning towards me and matching my volume.

I licked my lips. It sounded so stupid when I said it aloud. "My…my wings," I replied. "I've never been able to see them in a reflection before. Dean has seen their shadow during fights with other angels, and Cas says that he sees them regularly, but," I shrugged. "I almost didn't believe that they were even back there. I don't feel them. They're not heavy. I've never _felt_ angelic in any way."

"Honey, you've got abilities that are most definitely not human."

"But to call them angelic is another thing entirely," I argued. "Coming back from Heaven, I don't know," I shrugged again. "It's the first time that I _feel_ like I have abilities. It's the first time that I feel like I can do something other than move a feather or leaf." I glanced around the restaurant and gestured with my hand to the group of people in the center. "I've been able to hear other people for awhile now, but this is the first time it doesn't bother me. I can hear _everything_ but it's not affecting me the way it used to. It's…" I leaned back in my seat and sighed. "I finally feel like it's something that is supposed to be there."

Billy smiled gently at me, "Grace," he began, reaching for my hands. "You have been to Hell, you have been to Heaven. You have been everywhere in between. All this time, the reason you're still breathing, is because of those abilities. You rose from the ashes, each and every one of those times. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a phoenix, not Nephilim."

I smiled weakly at him and shrugged. "I think that's what this trip to Heaven has taught me," I continued. "To trust myself. To give in completely to what I can do." I shook my head and smiled ironically. "Cas would love to hear me say that. He's been preaching at me about it since he started training me; before we left for Holden."

"You and Cas seem close," Bill commented, smiling at the busboy that brought us our food. "Thank you," he said to the teenager and handed him a couple of bucks.

I took a fry from the tray and nodded. "Cas and I have some history," I explained. "We've been round and round about it, but he's the one that was there for me when Dean was under the spell that Ouriel had over him…he helped with Faith's conception…we…got close."

Bill pressed his lips together, "Mm," was his only reply.

I rolled my eyes and took another fry from the tray. "Don't you judge me," I replied, pointing at him with my French fry. "There was a lot more going on there that you don't know about. Dean and I are fine. Cas and I are fine." I unwrapped my burger and took a bite. "Really, I'm grateful that we had that time," I continued, feeling defensive. "It was the beginning of me using my abilities the way they were meant to be used. I was afraid of them before that."

"Mm," Billy repeated. I rolled my eyes again.

We were back on the road twenty-five minutes later.

…

Somewhere outside of Clearlake, Iowa, I pulled off to the side of the road and stared across the bridge, trying to get my bearings. "Something tells me we're headed back to Wisconsin," I muttered, shaking my head.

"I could have told you that about three hours ago," Billy answered, making another note on his yellow pad. "I've just been keeping my mouth shut, waiting to see what you do."

I nodded, knowing that I thought the same thing. Wisconsin seemed to make plenty of sense, considering that's where I had died and lost my son to Delilah again. Going back into the den of witches seemed like a foolish idea. "Well," I sighed, "we've got another three hours to Strum. I'm sorry I'm dragging your ass to the great white north."

Billy shrugged. "At least it's not snowing," he smiled weakly.

I could feel him staring at me from the passenger side of the truck as I took deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm down my nerves and keep my adrenaline at bay. The closer we got to my grace, the more amped up I felt. It now felt like my entire body was glowing as I reached out all around me, sensing everything I could. I could count Bill's steady heart beats, I could see each individual fish in the school below, deep in the frigid lake. I could hear the wings of the Canadian Geese as they took flight in the moonlight, headed south for warmer weather.

Underneath the steady hum of life all around me was the pulse of the missing piece of my own soul, waiting to be rejoined with my body. I reached out for it, and it seemed to answer me, calling me home.

"Last chance to abandon ship," I murmured, staring at Bill. His salt-and-pepper hair was closer to white these days and the flecks of gray in his beard had disappeared over the last year or so, leaving nothing but pure white behind. Billy wasn't old by any means, but the last few months had aged him. Guilt dripped through me once again, knowing that my family and I had been the leading cause of it.

He smiled gently, shaking his head as the cold breeze ruffled his hair. "Not on your life, angel. I love this truck," he answered, climbing back in. "I leave it behind now, I might never get it back."

I laughed, relieved, knowing that Bill would be with me until the end, wherever that might be. It was almost as good as having my dad back.

"Alright," I sighed, climbing in next to him. "Let's go put me back together."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dean

In the early afternoon chill, I walked out onto my front porch with my beer and stared out into the Kansas horizon. There was something out there that caught my gut's attention, but not the way a monster would have, back when we were hunting full time. There was just something out there that pulled me towards it, something that I needed to try and see from my place on my wraparound porch.

The highway was too far away to make out any particular cars; but I could tell that's where my eyeline was drawn. There was something there that I wanted to chase. I wondered momentarily if my son was out there somewhere close, but I had never been drawn to his location before. This was different.

I looked down at my right arm, where the Mark of Cain was still burned into my flesh. My sleeves were rolled up just enough to see the edge and I watched as the scar pulsed slightly, looking desperate and pissy. It only looked like that for one reason: when Grace was close enough to touch it, but didn't, leaving me feel teased.

I closed my eyes as the grief clenched my throat again, feeling familiar, like an old, annoying friend. I took another swig of beer and a deep breath as Serra joined me out on the porch. She moved quietly, just like she always did, but I could feel a difference in the way she carried herself. Without turning around to see my sister, I took a deep breath and handed her the extra beer I had.

She took it without acknowledgement, staring out into the horizon, just as I was. A few moments passed, and finally, she took a breath and nodded towards the sunset. "You feel that?" she whispered.

I know I should have been surprised, but the truth was, nothing that any of us did surprised me anymore. I took a long, slow breath and continued to stare off into the wheat. "Yeah," I answered finally. "Feels like I wanna take off runnin'."

I could see Serra nod slowly in my peripheral. "Same," she replied quietly. "What is it?"

For the first time, I turned towards Serra and took a deep breath. I hadn't even considered the possibility until just now, and even as I thought about it, the idea seemed ludicrous. Before I could stop myself, I was thinking aloud. "What if it's Grace?" I asked, barely breathing.

Clenching her jaw, Serra refused to meet my eye. "Grace is dead, Dean," she answered, opening the beer and tossing the cap onto the table next to us. "We burned her. She's gone."

"What if she's not?" I asked, gesturing towards the horizon with my beer. Saying the words out loud seemed to give me confidence. "We don't know shit about how Nephilim work…we don't know what happens to their soul when their body is killed. What if…?" I faded away and took a deep shaky breath. "What if her soul is out there? What if we can feel it just…just because we were so connected to her?"

Serendipity rolled her eyes, attempting to hide the tears that had gathered there. She seemed to always be on the edge these days; somewhere between sadness and rage. Serra shook her head obsessively, but unable to come up with anything to say.

I turned and faced my brother's wife, bending down to her level, just to make sure she made eye contact with me. "Why won't Lib say she's dead?" I demanded quietly. "Why isn't Glory sad? Why hasn't Faith flipped out?" I shook my head and gestured towards the wheat again. "Luck, there's gotta be something to that."

Serra was still adamantly shaking her head, forcing the tears that had gathered in her eyes to trickle down her face. She never looked so pathetic, and if it wasn't for the insistent pull towards the highway, I would have given up and let her be, but for the first time since Grace had been gone, I had the dangerous flicker of hope.

Behind us, I heard the screen door open and slam shut once more, and I turned to see Sammy and Cas join us out onto the porch. I took a deep breath, ready to hear it from Sam about making Serra cry, but he simply stared at me, questioning me with a look.

"There's something that caught our attention," I began, trying to explain the pull that originated from the pit of my gut. "Out there. Like a siren call."

Castiel followed my gaze out into the horizon and nodded once, squinting his eyes. "Out there," he repeated. "What is it?"

I turned, lifting my eyebrows, "What, you don't feel it?" I asked, surprised. "Of all of us, I would have thought you would have felt it the most."

"Why?" Cas asked, genuinely confused.

Shaking my head, I searched for an explanation. "I don't know," I began, "you're on Angel Radio. This feels…this feels like it would be right up your alley."

Sammy turned towards Serra and put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, noticing the strained expression on her face.

She shrugged in reply, taking another swig of beer.

I decided to let Sam and Cas in on my theory. "What if what we both feel is Grace, somehow?" Sam immediately closed his mouth and eyes, looking depressed. "No, hear me out," I said, holding up my hand. "I know, she's…dead. I got it," I forced myself to keep going. "And I know her body is gone and there wasn't anything to hold her spirit here, but she's Nephilim. Was," I corrected, rolling my eyes. "Was Nephilim. What if the rules are different? What if her soul is out there somewhere, looking for another vessel?" I turned to the angel standing next to me. "We never talked about this as a possibility because I didn't think it could be. Is it?"

Cas took a deep breath, looking more and more human each day. "I don't know, Dean," he muttered, shaking his head and putting his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. "Her grace was diminished; it's why she didn't survive the collapse. She was more human than angel when she died."

"And why are we bringing this up now? Nine weeks later?" Serra asked, anger touching her voice. "We didn't talk about the possibility back then. Why would it be possible now?"

"Because you and me both feel it. You and me are the only ones that make sense to _feel_ her," I explained, setting my beer bottle on the rail of the wrap around porch. "Serra, what if we didn't think of it big enough. She's half angel."

"Was," Serra turned towards me and slammed the bottle down onto the railing. "She was. She's gone. The pull we feel is us trying to feel her again, even though she's not here. It's over, Dean."

"You're the one that wanted to kick Heaven's gates down, looking for her."

"You're the one that told me that _she said_ not to come looking." With that, Serra turned and walked slowly back into the house.

Sam looked disappointed when he turned to stare at me. "What are you doing?" he asked. "You know she was finally starting to make some progress." He pressed his lips together. "Don't give her a false sense of hope."

I closed my eyes, knowing that I shouldn't have said anything until I knew more. "I know," I muttered, shaking my head. "I know. It was stupid." I glanced back out into the horizon as the sun began its slow fall into sunset. "I won't bring it up again."

Snapping his fingers at Johnny, Serra's black lab, Sam clicked his tongue, "Come on boy," he called quietly. "Let's go home."

…

Everett

I was back in the dark and I hated it.

After the fight with in the big brick building, Delilah took me away again and put some kind of spell on me so that I couldn't open my eyes. I couldn't move my arms or legs or use my voice to yell or speak. I was angry.

The ground shook again as I tried my best to get the spell off me, but I had no idea how to do it, which just made me madder. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom.

The only sense that hadn't been taken from me was my hearing. Straining, I tried my best to hear what Delilah was yelling about down the hall, away from me. She was…what was that word that Momma used when she talked about being really mad? Livid.

Delilah sounded livid.

"What the _fuck_ happened?" she screamed. "How the _fuck_ did she get through the warding? How did they find us? We were _this close_ to losing _both_ of those fucking boys. You are so lucky I managed to keep the one that matters."

Another woman's voice answered, "I apologize, Delilah," she said quietly. "Please allow me to make it up to you."  
"No," Delilah shouted. "No more making it up to me, no more witches following me around. The only thing left that I actually trust you with is finding Sabina making sure she doesn't become more of a problem. Her loyalty is…questionable."

I tried again to push the spell from my body, but the ground shook instead. It's the only thing I could do.

Delilah wasn't done yet. She continued to scream as she paced around the room, away from me. "And _someone_ for the love of _all that is fucking holy_ ," she took a deep breath. " _Find fucking Crowley."_

"Delilah," the witch tried to defend herself. "We have been looking since the warehouse. We haven't found any trace of him. The only thing that we can think of," she took a deep breath and hesitated, probably knowing how much her answer would irritate the angel.

"Spit it out, Rhiannon!"

"We think he has returned to Hell; or cast a spell of his own."

Delilah said nothing, but I could hear a crash that echoed down the long hallway near my new room. She probably threw something against the wall. Delilah's anger had been bubbling right below the surface since my family came to rescue us. Even though they had only succeeded in rescuing one of us, I knew that they would be back.

It had been a long time since we came to the new hideout, and about the same amount since I had a regular meal. I didn't need to eat as much anymore, apparently. Something told me that my angel side was kicking in. Again, I tried to break the bonds of the spell that blinded and gagged me, but nothing I did made it any better.

 _Momma,_ I thought. _Momma, please come to get me._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Serra

I slammed the door open and walked through our still-disheveled kitchen, trying to find something, anything, that would distract me from the conversation I just had with Dean. Finally, a bottle of Jameson caught my eye and I pulled the bottle from the cupboard, barely taking the time to grab a glass.

Pouring liberally, I took a swig and closed my eyes as the burn down my throat grounded me. My sister was dead. I knew that she was dead; there was no getting around it. We missed our chance to go after her. There were no deals to be made, no spells to cast. It was over.

Taking another drink, I drained the glass and poured another, chasing it with a handful of crackers that was left in Levi's bowl from dinner.

"Eventually, you're gonna have to eat something else besides Goldfish and whiskey," Sammy's voice was calm as he walked into the kitchen behind me. Johnny trotted past me, his tail hitting everything within range. He stared out the sliding glass door for a few moments and then turned towards me and licked my hand.

"Hi, dog," I whispered, petting him absentmindedly. "Who says?" I continued, turning back to my husband.

Sammy shook his head at me, taking away the Goldfish and Jameson and replacing them with an apple from the fruit basket on the counter. "Me," Sammy smiled and walked towards me slowly, knowing that I was a breath from jumping away from his touch. "I know you're hurting, Sere," he continued quietly. "But you need to start taking care of yourself again. Grace would have wanted you to."

"Don't," I whispered, closing my eyes. "Don't say her name."

"Serra," Sam continued, "You have to keep pushing. We're going to get through this. _You're_ going to get through this."

I turned away from him, taking my glass back out of his hand, and drained the remainder of my whiskey. This time the only sting I felt was from the tears in my eyes.

…

Sam went to bed hours ago. He laid in our bed; his breathing quiet and rhythmic. It would have been comforting if I had been willing to be comforted. Johnny laid curled up in a ball at my feet and I tried to get out of bed without him following after me, but with my black lab, I knew it was impossible. He was on my tail before I got to the end of the hall.

I paused at each of my kids' doorways to listen to them breathe. It was almost as comforting as listening to Sammy, but after standing in Levi's doorway, I was consumed with guilt about not being able to save Everett along with my son. That guilt wrapped its way through my throat, clinging to my chest hard enough to strangle me.

Flashes of the collapsed corridor flew through my head, forcing me to relive watching my sister die over and over again. I watched the bricks fall from the ceiling and I watched Dean bend to protect her. The same feeling of uselessness suffocated me; so much power for me to use, having taken the last injector of Sammy's blood, but my strength and power could do nothing to stop the bricks from crushing the life out of mortal, grace-less Grace.

Once again, I found myself standing in my broken kitchen. The damage from the tornado that tried to kill me was still there, reminding all of us how this started. Our windows were patched with plywood and what remained of our brick mantle was in a neat pile, off to the side of the living room. There was a patched hole in the roof where the chimney belonged, and the railing from the stairwell was jury-rigged, just to make sure the kids didn't fall when they attempted to come down the steps. They spent most of their time at the Big House anyway, so I didn't feel the urgency to have the house repaired. I didn't have the urgency to do much of anything.

I just haven't cared since Grace had been gone.

Soon, I found myself standing the middle of the wheat field between our houses, staring up at the stars and not bothering to wipe the tears from my face. There was no one to fool, here in the moonlight. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, listening to the breeze as it danced through the wheat. I adjusted my feet, and without realizing what I was doing, turned to face the highway, the same direction that Dean and I stared off into earlier. The pull was still there.

Clenching my teeth together, I sighed through my nose. "Are you out there?" I asked myself, barely loud enough to hear. Sam couldn't feel it, I knew. When I tried to explain it earlier, Sammy had shaken his head and shrugged his shoulders, attributing the pull I felt to the need to have my sister back. "Or am I going completely nuts?"

…

Grace

 _"Are you out there? Or am I going completely nuts?"_ my sister's voice echoed through my mind as if I was standing right next to her. She was in turmoil and there was nothing I could do about it at this moment in time. I kept myself guarded and blocked from everyone that had the ability to hear me, my sister and Cas included. There was no way I would risk them until we were able to fight, together, with my grace back.

Billy turned towards me as I put his truck in park, "You alright?" he asked. "You've been quiet since we drove through Lawrence."

I took a deep breath and shook my head. "They can feel me," I sighed, shaking my head. "Dean and Serra."

"How do you know?"

Turning to stare at Billy, I lifted an eyebrow.

He pressed his lips together and nodded once, "Right," he chuckled. "I forgot. Reborn Nephilim. How can they feel you? I would think it would be the other way around."

"They're bonded to me in a way no one else is, except the kids," I explained. "Pretty sure it's why the girls were never upset that I was 'dead'." I took another deep breath, trying to keep the adrenaline at bay. "We're here. Now what?"

"Well, you're the Divining Rod," Billy sighed, getting out of the truck and stretching. "Where to?"

I got out of the driver's seat and wandered to the edge of the parking lot. The warehouse that took my life almost ten weeks ago was still in ruins, gated off from the rest of the public. I closed my eyes and listened, hearing the pulse from, what I assumed, was my grace, calling out to me.

Without really thinking about it, I took a step towards the building, allowing my grace to lead me towards it. I took step after step, getting closer and closer to the glow that I could feel, deep in the pit of my stomach. Billy followed behind at a distance, allowing me to listen and walk at my own speed.

I stepped up the curb and around the gap in the chain link fence. It was dark, but it wasn't as if I needed light to see. My senses were alight, having more power than they ever had before. I followed the pull as it got stronger into the collapsed building. There was a tingle in the back of my mind, telling me of danger, but I ignored it for the time being. All that mattered to me in this moment was my grace. I had to get it back.

"Grace?" Billy's voice whispered into the darkness as he waited in the broken door frame. "Anything?"

"Hold on, Billy," I answered, but not bothering to lift my voice any louder. I knew he would be able to hear me. "There's something—"

The tingle in the back of my mind jumped to all out red-alert, but it was too late. I turned, expecting to see something standing right behind me, but it wasn't me I should have been worried about. Billy was already dropping to his knees in front of a female, winged form.

"No!" I shouted, turning back towards him, raising my hands, palms out. "Get away from him!"

Delilah turned, blinking slowly, trying to believe what she was seeing. "How in the hell…" she whispered.

I wasted no time, trying to explain anything to Delilah. She was here and so was my grace. I needed to find it before she had a chance to.

We both launched ourselves towards the rubble, both looking for the same thing. She was missing the one advantage I had: my grace wanted _me_ to find it. It called only to me. I closed my eyes to listen once again and turned my head towards the direction I could feel its pull, then without thinking, I threw myself towards the pile of bricks at the end of the tunnel where Serra and Delilah had fought hand to hand towards the end of the battle, right before I had died. It was here. I could hear it.

It pulsed harder as I dug.

Delilah was right behind me, muttering spells and incantations as she flung rocks out of the way with a flick of her wrists. She closed her eyes with her hands out, still muttering to herself. Obviously, she was attempting to call my grace to her. I knew it wouldn't come. It was loyal only to me.

There, at the bottom of the rubble, was a glowing blue vial. Delilah hadn't realized it was there; her eyes were closed and she continued to recite spell after spell. The bricks shuddered, but didn't move. She was stressed and obviously losing her touch.

I moved towards the vial slowly, so as not to alert Delilah to my victory. I uncapped it and closed my eyes. The vial pulsed with excitement as my grace slinked out of it, eager to come back to me.

The warmth spread through my arms and hands, and then into my legs and feet. I stood slowly, feeling the warmth travel into my chest and into my mind, finally putting everything back where it should be. I felt whole. Opening my eyes and seeing Delilah still with her eyes closed, I smiled lightly to myself. There was no comparison on abilities any longer. I was the more powerful being.

I was Nephilim.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Grace

For the first time in my life, I could feel the weight of my wings; their span was bigger than I had seen on Castiel or anyone else. Their golden, pearlescent shimmer in the moonlight made me feel completely indestructible. I turned towards Delilah slowly, making no noise and she must have sensed something was different because she opened her eyes and they flashed with a rage I had yet seen.

"What's the matter, there, Delilah?" I asked, tilting my head as I smiled gently. "Worried that we're evenly matched now?"

"You will never have my power," she whispered, "even with your grace back. I'll tell your son you said 'hello'." With that, she disappeared on the spot.

Gritting my teeth and trying not to focus too much on the idea that Delilah still had my son, I ran over to Billy, who had collapsed on a pile of rubble in the doorway of the building. He wasn't bleeding, from what I could tell, but I knew he was very hurt. Rolling him to the side, I listened for a pulse, but I could hear too much; it was distracting. I decided to stop wasting time and opted for the easier solution: resting my hand on his forehead, I pushed healing into his body, without knowing how I did it. He blinked slowly, smiling when he saw my face.

"You got it before she did," he whispered.

Nodding, I smiled. "I did," I agreed. "Good thing too. She cast a spell on you."

"Bitch," he whispered, making the move to stand. "Why hadn't she come for it before?" he asked as I stood back and helped him to his feet and we turned to survey the damage again.

I shook my head, "She probably didn't know where to look," I explained. "It was calling only to me."

Billy smiled, accepting my explanation. "You ready to go home?"

"Hell yes," I sighed, smiling as I glanced up at him. "They're gonna be pissed I didn't go home first."

Billy shrugged half-heartedly and turned towards the door, hobbling slightly. "Eh, let 'em be pissed. Builds character."

…

"How the _fuck_ did she survive?" Delilah screamed as she launched spell after spell into the empty room. "How is she _alive?"_

Rhiannon cowered in the corner, as far away from Delilah as possible. "I don't know," she whispered, trying to stay away from the angel. "I'm sorry Delilah. I am so sorry we did not do what you instructed us to do."

Delilah's fists shook with rage and slowly, things around the room began to rattle. Rhiannon glanced around, worried what was to become of her, but instead, Delilah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The rattle stopped.

Slowly, Delilah opened her eyes and took another breath, obviously gaining control of her anger. "We still have the Gatekeeper," she whispered, mostly to herself. "We still have the Gatekeeper and the others will come to me if I have him."

"The others?" Rhiannon asked. "The other Gatekeepers?"

Nodding slowly and turning away from the witch, Delilah stared out the tiny window. "The Gatekeeper will convince his siblings to come, we will have control of the Gates, and I can bring down the rest of the angels with the monsters from Hell and Purgatory. I still have control."

Rhiannon's dark eyes narrowed in doubt as she watched her mistress from across the room. The more she witnessed, the more unlikely it seemed to Rhiannon that any of the Winchester children would voluntarily come to her or leave their family. Rhiannon had a distant memory of what it was like to be loyal to a family, but that was before Delilah had taken her own sister away from her.

From his cell, Everett Winchester listened to Rhiannon's thoughts as they ventured further and further away from the other witches. He focused Rhiannon's loyalty to the past and finally, he found a weak link in Rhiannon's dedication to Delilah. Slowly, the corner of his lips tugged into a sly smile.

Momma's homemade mac and cheese, he decided. It would be a perfect welcome home meal.

…

Grace

The drive back home wasn't nearly as far as I remembered, but it could have been the fact that I was more angel than human now. I couldn't explain it, especially considering I was only supposed to be half and half, but it seemed that my death had sent me into some kind of ultra-maturity when it came to using my abilities. The human half of my body was absolutely exhausted; driving for hours and seeing Delilah again had sent my adrenaline into overdrive, but the angel half didn't even register the tired from the human side.

Billy had fallen asleep hours ago, resting his head against the window of the passenger side and breathing softly. His body was taxed, having been through a major injury and being repaired so quickly. I knew he would be fine, but I was quietly worried what all this excitement would do to my friend. He wasn't exactly young anymore.

We crossed the state line into Kansas and I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't wait to go home.

"You're awfully quiet over there," Billy spoke softly, still with his eyes closed.

I smiled lightly as I changed highways for the last time before we got home. Lawrence was only about forty-five minutes away. "I would have to say the same thing about you," I smiled, glancing over at him. "You were out."

Billy sat up and readjusted his position in the passenger seat. "At least I wasn't snoring," he chuckled. "You feel alright? Everything still back where it needed to be?"

Nodding, I smiled, "It's the best I think I've ever felt," I agreed. "The idea that I can see my wings…" slowly, I shook my head in disbelief. "I get the feeling that I should have always been able to see them, but it's the first time that I feel like I own my abilities; like they actually _belong_ to me." I stole another look over at Bill. "I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. It's nice."

"A phoenix," Billy smiled gently, staring out the window into the blue Kansas sky. "Rising from the ashes."

I smiled slowly, nodding in agreement. "What's the lore on them?" I asked, still with the stupid grin. "Don't they get more powerful every time they ash?"

"Something like that," Bill grinned. "What is your sister going to do when she gets a load of you?"

I shook my head, taking a deep breath. "She'll probably try to kill me," I laughed.

"That sounds like Serra."

…

Serra

I had a few days off from the hospital and while Sammy was at work and the kids were at school, I tried to clean the house. I tried to wash the dishes that had piled up in the sink. And then I tried to put the laundry away, but nothing I tried got finished. The kids' toys were still scattered across the hall and our bedroom. The dishes were still stacked next to the sink and the laundry spilled over the sides of the baskets that held it. I was just so distracted.

I found myself standing in the middle of the wheat field between our two houses, staring east, waiting for something to happen. There was something in the air that I just couldn't put my finger on; not dangerous, or violent that I could tell, but _something_ was coming. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I listened.

Minutes passed slowly, and I strained myself, trying to hear what my instincts told me I should be able to hear. Finally, frustration got the best of me and I sighed heavily, covering my face with my hands. "This is ridiculous," I whispered to the wheat. "There's nothing out here. There hasn't been anything out here. Get a grip, Sere."

Turning back towards the Dean's house, I thought about walking over there, just to get some reassurance from my brother-in-law that I wasn't going completely nuts, but before I had the chance to take a step, the echo of a diesel engine bounced off the sides of the barn. I hesitated, feeling like that motor was familiar, and listened hard.

The truck got off the highway, taking the same route I was used to Dean taking in the Impala. I could hear the left turn he made as he would normally head up the gravel driveway towards the Big House. It wasn't Dean this time, though, I knew, especially considering it was a diesel engine. Glancing over to the barn again, I could see that Tulley and Fred's camper was gone and the Adaka'i boys were still up in Wisconsin. No one was due back for a few days.

Glancing up at the Big House again, I couldn't immediately see Dean in any of the windows, but something told me that he could hear the diesel engine too. I knew I wasn't hallucinating. I wasn't _that_ far gone.

Turning towards the gravel driveway that circled the back of the Big House, leading into the field, I began to jog towards the sound. A semi-familiar white Dodge four by four diesel was rolling up the gravel; it's engine's sound reverberating against the houses and the barn. I slowed to a stop as the hairs on the back of my neck continued to wave red flags. Something was happening. Something was _about_ to happen.

Without really thinking about it, I pulled the Twins from the waistband of my jeans and flicked the safety off both of them as I stared at the truck. The glare coming off the windshield was too much to stare at, but I didn't look away.

"Serra?" called a man's voice as I held my guns at my hips. "Serra, it's okay, it's me."

"Bill?" I answered, still clutching my guns. Something still didn't feel right.

Billy Griffin stepped down out of the passenger side of his 1993 Dodge and with his hands in the air, he tried to calm me down, "Sere," he continued, "put the guns away. You don't need 'em."

There, coming out from behind the glare, was a tall blonde. She moved slowly and deliberately, using the driver's side door to hide her body and face from me. As she turned to move out into the open, something behind her shimmered, though I couldn't get a good look in the late afternoon sun.

"Serra?" her voice called, sounding too familiar. My defenses shot up, forcing my hands to raise my guns. "Serra, wait. It's me."

Grace's voice was the most familiar voice in my mind; maybe more familiar than my own. It was my sister's voice, but there was no possible way it could actually _be_ my sister. "Who the fuck are you?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. I moved closer towards her, raising my guns, aiming at her chest and head.

Bill moved closer to me, his hands outstretched defensively. "Serra, wait," he comforted. "It's Grace, I promise you."

"Grace is dead," I restated, mostly to myself.

Slowly, the Grace imposter moved away from Billy's truck and out into the open. I had my clear shot. Without hesitating, I fired four times, twice towards her chest and twice towards her head.

Fake Grace lifted her hands, almost in slow motion, and I could see the protective shimmer that enveloped her. She dropped the bullets meant for her head like it was nothing; they landed neatly at her feet. The two I aimed for her chest slipped by her defenses, forcing her to take a step back and close her eyes. The Weapons' Stone bullets lit her chest with a dull blue glow from the inside, but then she looked up at me, tilted her head almost as if she was annoyed, and closed her eyes to concentrate, forcing the bullets back out of her sternum and out onto the ground.

Her eyes glowed blue, the same way and angel's eyes did when they used their abilities and I took a deep breath, knowing that this imposter would not go down so easily.

Without waiting another second, I raised my guns again, unloading the clip of Weapons' Stone bullets into the creature in front of me. "Serra!" Billy shouted, raising his arms, "Stop!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Dean

I threw another load of laundry into the washer and picked up the basket of freshly dried clothes off the floor of the mudroom when I heard them: four rapid-fire gunshots.

Serra's signature move.

I dropped the basket of clothes and had my pearl-handled Colt forty-five pulled before I made it to our back porch, completely at a loss about what could be attacking us in the middle of the late afternoon. I stood at the top of the back steps, trying to make sense of the scene.

A white Dodge truck was parked at the end of my gravel driveway; both doors wide open and two people stood near the hood. An older man with white hair had his arms up in a position of surrender and letting my arm go limp to hold my gun at my side, I realized that it was Bill Griffin.

"Serra, stop!" he yelled, taking a couple steps towards my sister-in-law as she stood at the ready, both of her arms out, holding the Twins in a defensive position towards a woman with long, wavy blonde hair. "Serra, it's us!"

As I watched, Serra fired eight more times in rapid succession, and one bullet after another hit the ground in front of Serra's intended victim, obviously hitting something like a shield. One or two of the bullets made it through, but as I watched them find their target, the woman's chest glowed blue from inside, but instantly, she recovered and pushed them from her body, repairing herself quickly.

"It's me, you dope," the woman yelled.

Recognition hit me in an instant and my heart dropped into my stomach. It was Grace's voice.

I ran down the steps of the back porch to where Serra was standing, and I tried to wrap my head around what was happening. "Serra," I began, but she was already moving away from me, unwilling to hear what I was going to say. She was getting ready to fire again, but the woman who looked like Grace moved parallel to her, keeping her in plain view, still with her arms lifted in submission.

Serra pulled the triggers to both of her guns, but she was already spent. She dropped them and went running full tilt at the woman standing near the Dodge, pulling a pair of Weapons' Stone blades from the holsters at her hips. The blonde turned, taking a defensive stance with her arms out, ready to take Serra on. Bill was moving towards the girls, shouting at Serra to get a grip, and I was in too much shock to do much else but watch.

Everything in me told me that the blonde that Serra was attacking was my wife, but at the same time, I knew for a fact that Grace was dead. I moved towards the truck, trying to get to Bill, but the surprise kept me rooted to the spot.

…

Serra

I launched myself at the Fake Grace, wanting her to be real, but knowing she could only be an imposter. There was no way my sister was alive and well. There was no way she would have been able to fend off that many Weapons' Stone bullets or repair fast enough not to hit the ground. That woman couldn't be my sister.

My sister was dead.

I hit her at full speed, taking her to the ground. She barely fought back; only blocking the attacks I made with the blades. I got a couple good swipes in and I saw her flesh burn blue with contact.

"Serra, stop," she grunted. "Stop being such a bitch and let me explain."

Ignoring her, I dropped one of the blades and did what I could to attack her with my fists instead. I landed punch after punch; rage and weeks of depression fueling my attack. Holding her down with one of my arms, I reached into my boot and pulled out a tiny vial of holy water and broke it across her forehead, cutting her skin deeply. As I watched, the cuts on her face from the glass healed almost immediately and the water did absolutely nothing. From behind me, Bill attempted over and over again to pull me from Fake Grace, but I was relentless. Nothing he did could stop me.

Before I knew it, I was silently sobbing, and tears burned my eyes, but they didn't slow me down. I continued my attack until finally, I felt like I couldn't lift my fists any more. I could hear Dean behind me, stepping forward but waiting for the counter attack, ready in case she turned on me, but Fake Grace did nothing. She laid there, pinned down beneath my hold, bleeding lightly where cuts and bruises began to stitch themselves back together.

"You about done?" she whispered.

For the first time, I leaned back to stare at her, still holding her to the ground with my arms. "What?" I asked, doubt hitting me like a train.

The blonde woman on the ground beneath me smiled weakly, raising one of her eyebrows, just like Grace used to when she asked me questions like that. She took a shaky breath and repeated herself slowly and deliberately, saying one of the most familiar phrases my sister said to me, "Are you about done?"

"Oh my god, _Grace_ ," I whispered, staring into my sister's bright blue eyes. "What? How?"

Grace lifted both of her eyebrows now, pressing her lips together. "If you're done trying to kill me, I'll explain," she answered.

Tears dripped down from my face onto my sister's skin. "Are you real? Is this real?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

"Yeah," Grace answered breathlessly, nodding her head. "I'm real."

I stared at her face, searching her eyes for the truth. There she was, right in front of me; her same blue eyes, the freckle beneath her bottom lip. The curve of her cheeks and the arch of her eyebrows were all exactly as they should be. My sister was _alive_.

Immediately, I was a puddle, collapsing onto my living, breathing sister's chest, wrapping my arms around her the best I could without skinning my knuckles on the gravel beneath her. Not that it mattered, really. My knuckles were already bloody from the insane beating I just gave her.

Grace didn't hesitate in bringing her arms up from the gravel driveway and wrapping them around me, holding me to her chest like she did when I was a little girl. I sounded like a fool, laughing and sobbing, ugly tears running down my cheeks and onto my sister's face. She laughed and wiped her own face, trying to push my hair from her mouth.

"Your butt is crushing me," Grace whispered into my ear as she held me, quoting one of our favorite animated movies. "And the gravel doesn't feel too good, either."

I sat up, scrambling off her and helped her off the gravel, but then almost took her back to the ground as I hugged her again. "You're alive?" I asked again, touching her hair and her face. "How? How are you alive? We burned your body."

"I know," she whispered, nodding slowly. "I'll explain it all. We've got the time."

…

Grace

I couldn't believe I was finally holding my sister once again. She wrapped her arms around me so tightly, I struggled to breathe, but I didn't have it in me to make her let go. Finally opening my eyes, I pushed Serra's auburn hair out of my face and stared over her shoulder towards the Big House. There, directly in my line of sight, was my husband staring back at me.

He looked exactly as I remembered him; tall, handsome, and bowlegged, wearing one of his favorite blue flannels over a black Winchester Autobody tee shirt with jeans and boots. His hair was longer than I had seen it in years and he was slightly unshaven, looking rugged and a little unkempt. Dean's mouth was open slightly in surprise, trying to make sense out of what he was seeing.

"Grace?" he whispered, taking a step closer to me and Serra.

I nodded as Serra turned towards him, wiping her face with her arm.

He shook his head once, still totally confused. I could tell his defenses were still up and I would have to tread carefully to keep everyone's emotions under control. "How…?" he continued quietly. "Are you real?" He glanced around our surroundings, seemingly checking if everything else was where it was supposed to be. "Am I dreaming?"

Slowly, Serra let go of me, still inspecting me and touching my hair, my shoulders. I took a step towards my husband and my eyes filled with tears, seeing him finally, after all this time. "No, you're not dreaming," I whispered. "It's me. I'm here."

His breathing quickened, and his eyebrows knitted together, as he took a step towards me. I could see Billy out of the corner of my eye; a big, goofy grin spread across his face as he watched me reunite with Dean.

Dean took another step towards me, putting his gun back into the back of the waistband of his jeans as he approached. He lifted his hand and I closed the gap, allowing him to take mine.

His hands were warm and rough and immediately I pictured them cupping my face and caressing my skin. I missed his touch so much it hurt. I pulled him closer and he took another hesitant step towards me, still inspecting my face and my body. I knew, from standing in front of Bill's shop and staring at my reflection in the glass doors, that I looked slightly different than I had in my original body, though I couldn't put my finger on what it was, so I knew that Dean was going through the same examination as I had done already.

"Grace," Dean's voice was ragged with emotion, and his eyes filled with tears as he came closer. I stared up at him, drinking in every detail of his face. I reached up with my hand to touch his cheek, and then his hair. Dean closed his eyes at my touch, both of us feeling the tingle of electricity though my fingers as they danced across his skin.

Dipping his head and opening his eyes, the corners of Dean's lips tugged into a careful grin. "You're alive," he whispered. "Holy shit, you're alive."

I nodded with a stupid smile across my face; the grin Dean wore was contagious.

"I'm alive," I answered.

Closing the gap between our faces, Dean leaned and kissed me deeply; the electricity crackling in the air around us as we reunited. Warmth spread through my chest and my arms as I moved closer towards my husband. Serra dropped my other hand and immediately, I wrapped it around Dean's shoulders, pulling him closer. He physically lifted me from the ground, wrapping his arms around my waist to hug me.

From my right-hand side, Serra giggled and sniffed, saying, "Holy shit, I've never been so happy to watch them make out."

Bill chuckled next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

It was good to be home.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dean

I watched every move she made like she would evaporate right before my eyes. We stood in the middle of the gravel driveway behind our house for almost an hour, touching and talking, as Grace did the best she could to explain to me and Serra what she went through to get her grace back.

Serra was positively giddy and had a hard time standing in one place for too long. Bill had his arms crossed and was leaning up against his Dodge truck with a smile on his face, nodding every once and awhile as Grace told her story. I was still in such disbelief, I could barely keep my hands to myself, touching my wife every chance I got, reassuring myself that she was real.

I glanced at my watch and realized that our kids would be coming home soon. Taking a deep breath, I shook my head, saying, "What are we going to tell the kids? I mean," I chuckled. "I gave them this whole speech about you being gone and not coming back…you're gonna undo everything I said."

"Liberty knows I'm alive," Grace explained quietly. "Which probably means the other girls do, too. She can hear me, though I've been trying my best to keep her out of my mind." Grace turned to stare up into my face again. It was hard for me to stay focused with her deep blue eyes staring at me like that. I was getting lost in there.

I tilted my head, fighting confusion. "How long has she known?" I asked, glancing at Serra. "That would explain why she hasn't been upset," I continued, mostly to Grace's sister. "She knew and didn't tell us."

"She has been telling us, but did we believe her?" Serra asked, lifting her eyebrows doubtfully. "No way."

Chuckling, I shook my head. "No way," I agreed, nodding and moving closer to my wife. All I wanted to do was take Grace inside and show her how much I missed her, but I knew that would have to wait until tonight after the explanations, the excitement from the kids, and the story telling to the rest of our friends. I had no idea how we were going to present this to people like Lib's teacher, but I wasn't going to waste time thinking about it now. I couldn't believe I had her back in my arms.

Serra continually touched Grace at random intervals as well, also making sure that she was real and that she hadn't disappeared. Slowly, we made our way indoors to the Big House and sat around the dining room table, waiting for our girls to get home.

"Sammy said he's about five minutes out," Serra said, glancing at her watch. "I can't wait to see the look on his face."

Grace laughed, shaking her head. "Why?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "Did Sam miss me that much?"

I was confused too, "What, was my brother trying to make a move on my girl?"

"No, no," Serra laughed, "he's had to deal with us grieving all by himself for the last ten weeks," she smiled. "Now that she's home, his job just got so much easier."

In the distance, I could hear Sammy and Serra's 'Shaggin' Wagon' turn off the highway and onto our gravel road. Grace was already standing and grinning from ear to ear, eager to see our daughters again. The only thing missing in all of this was Everett.

Grace turned, hearing my thought process and took a sad, deep breath. "Soon," she replied. "We'll get him home."

I nodded, knowing that she was telling the truth. Now that I had my wife; with her full abilities back, I felt like anything was possible.

We listened to doors being opened and closed as the engine shut off, then the squeals of the girls and Levi as they came tumbling out of the truck. Pounding footsteps echoed across our wooden porch and Grace moved to open the door before the kids got there.

Bending down to greet our daughters, Grace's blue eyes filled with tears.

"Momma!" Glory shouted, bounding into the house, her arms wide open to greet her mother.

Immediately, Grace was squatting in front of the doorway, wrapping her arms around Glory as Liberty grinned from behind her.

"It took you _forever_ to get home," Lib exclaimed. "We missed you!" She lunged towards Grace, joining Glory in hugging Grace, pushing against her harder than she was ready for. They landed in a hugging pile on the hardwood floor.

Sammy and Levi weren't far behind. Levi was grinning from eat to ear, upon seeing his aunt, and joined the girls on the floor. Walking with purpose towards the couch, Sam bent to put the babies down and turned towards Grace, helping her up off the floor and wrapping his entire body around her, embracing her tightly.

"I am so fucking happy to see you," my brother whispered into Grace's hair.

Grace was crying again, nodding in agreement. "Me too, Sammy," she whispered.

"So I take it you told him," I said to Serra, gesturing to Sam and Grace as they hugged.

Serra folded her arms across her chest, nodding smugly. "Yep," she answered quietly. "I don't think anyone can handle any more surprises in this house."

Sighing heavily, I nodded, "You can say that again."

…

Dean

After hours of cuddling and hugging and reading stories to the girls, Grace finally put everyone to bed and walked back down the steps, wiping her face again. I smiled at her as she came down, fighting the urge to meet her at the bottom of the steps and escorting her to the dining room table. As it was, I had hovered in the hallway while Grace gave the girls baths and read stories, worried she would somehow disappear, right into thin air. I was so overly paranoid, I made the excuse to come into our bedroom, putting away laundry while she showered and changed earlier that evening.

Finally, having her back in the dining room with us, she poured a cup of coffee for each of us, and set the pot in the middle of the table. Serra and Sammy sat down at the table as I pulled Grace into another hug and kiss before we joined them.

I stared happily at Grace's pants. "You didn't get rid of the red sweats," I whispered, nuzzling her neck and taking in her scent.

Grace turned and pushed her damp hair behind her ears. "I saved them," she answered, grinning up at me. "You were right—too many memories to get rid of them."

My hands tingled where they made contact with her skin on her hips, right under the hem of her white tank top. I nodded, smiling secretively at her as she turned towards the dining room table and sat down with her sister and my brother.

"Okay, okay," Serra exclaimed, patting the table with the palms of her hands. "Let's go. Spill. All the nitty-gritty details."

Grace took a deep breath and sighed as she sat down, taking a cup of coffee in both her hands as she leaned into the chair and brought one of her legs up so that her knee was bent in front of her chest. It was one of her favorite positions and just seeing her comfortable our home again was enough for me to crumble.

"During the battle," she began, glancing at me, "I told Dean not to come for me. He followed directions, and because of that, I think I was able to get what I needed to do done."

"But why would that have slowed you down?" Serra asked. "Why couldn't we have sped this process up by coming to get you?"

Grace shook her head slowly, "I had to come to all of this on my own, Sere. The things I can do now," Grace held up her fingers and made tiny circles in the air. As she did so, her coffee began to stir on its own as if she was using a spoon. "When Cas was trying to train me before Holden, he kept talking about moving molecules. I was so frustrated because I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that molecules could be moved independently." She paused and took a drink and smiled at me. "Turns out," she continued, "my abilities were being strangled because I wasn't allowing them to come out. I had doubts, and those doubts stopped me from being successful."

I leaned forward, smiling lightly. "From what I saw in Holden, your abilities weren't strangled."

Grace turned to face me again and without moving her body, I could feel… _something_ wind its way up the back of my head and ruffle my hair. It slinked down my arms on both sides and ran down my chest, then slid down my legs and the inside of my thighs, forcing me to sit up a little straighter. My wife was completely stoic as she watched me squirm.

"That's you?" I asked, taking a sharp breath.

She lifted one eyebrow and stared at me silently as the sensation continued around me.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head in pleasure. "That's," I struggled to stay focused. "That's completely G rated. Promise."

Serra made a face and turned to stare at her sister. "Gross, knock it off," she said, still scrunching up her nose.

The feeling stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving me feeling pent up and uncomfortable. I turned to stare at Sam and Serra, hating that they were both still sitting here in my dining room, ruining my ability to take Grace right here on top of the table.

Obviously hearing my thoughts, Grace's blue gaze flicked to mine and she threw me a sly grin. I hadn't realized until now how much we depended on her abilities as a Nephilim, for communication alone. I was falling in love, hard, with my wife all over again.

"Anyway," Serra prompted, tapping the table again. "You told Dean not to come after you. Then?"

"I died. I had to die," Grace sighed. "I had to in order to find out how much power I had, apparently." She turned to smile wistfully at me. "I went to Heaven. They welcomed me with open arms and I thought it was where I would be staying," Grace lifted one of her shoulders slightly as she took a sip of her coffee and continued her story, "The more I talked to Mom and the more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense for me to stay."

"But you didn't have any grace left," Serra countered, "you were mortal."

Grace pressed her lips into a flat line. "Mom and her friend brought up an important point," she continued. "If I had enough grace to communicate with Dean telepathically one last time, I had enough grace." She shrugged. "Period." Setting her coffee mug on the table, she smiled gently at me again. "So, the angels said I could go, but if I didn't get my grace back completely, I wouldn't last too long."

Sammy was totally enthralled with the story and smiled as he leaned on his hand. "You know what this sounds like, right?" he asked, turning his mug to face the opposite direction.

Grace shook her head gently, staring at Sammy.

"Makes you sound like Jesus."

I chuckled and subconsciously reached for my wife, lacing my fingers through hers. "Then you headed to Billy's," I commented, glancing up at her. "Instead of here."

It was the first time Grace looked uncomfortable. "I know," she whispered, looking solemn. "And I'm sorry, but I knew I had to get to Wisconsin. I had to get my grace back before I could risk you…before I could risk anyone in this family without being able to protect you. I ran into Delilah in Wisconsin, but we didn't even get a chance to fight. We were too caught up in trying to find my grace." She took a deep breath and continued, "As soon as I had it back, she freaked out and took off, not giving me a chance to kill her." Grace reached with her other hand to grip mine with both of hers. "I knew once I had my grace back, I could take on anyone that threatened this family. I'm more powerful now than I ever have been." She licked her lips and glanced across the table at her sister. "Dying released the doubt I had about my abilities. I'm as close to unstoppable as I've ever been."

Serra's hazel eyes flicked to Sam and me, "She's right," Serra explained quietly. "I loaded her with about six rounds of angel bullets. Didn't even slow her down."

I turned to stare at my wife, but then back to Serra. "Those were from the Weapons' Stone?" I asked, my eyebrows in my hairline. "Those are angel _killing_ bullets, Serra. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that she was an imposter because for all I knew, she was supposed to be dead," Serra spat, raising her voice enough to argue. "I honestly thought that she was Delilah, or worse." Serra turned to her sister and shook her head. "How did you survive the angel bullets?" she asked, leaning forward. "You just took them, you lit from the inside, but then your body went all Wolverine on us and just fucking _spit them out_." She shook her head slowly, leaning back against her chair. "How do you go from barely able to curve the bullet to absorbing a shot like that and Wolverineing it?"

"A Nephilim is more powerful than the angel that was used to host it," Grace recited, spreading her hands on the table. "Lucia is a Seraph…a guardian, but more. They're pretty high on the angel food chain," she smiled sheepishly. "Looks like I got more than anyone bargained for, I just didn't know how to use it."

Sammy shrugged, "Your human side probably kicks in a bit too," he explained. "Your human side doesn't care if they're angel bullets or regular bullets. You cancel them out."

"I wanna see what else she'll do," Serra grinned.

Shaking my head slowly, I glanced at the clock and then back at my wife. "Look, I don't know about you guys, but I'm beat."

Pressing her lips together, Serra shot me a look. "No, you're not," she argued. "You want to get laid."

Standing from the dining room table, I pursed my lips and tilted my head, "Well, you're not wrong," I grinned. "Don't you?"

For the first time, Serra glanced at Sam and a mischievous grin spread over her face. "Yeah, I do," she agreed. "Okay, see you guys tomorrow." She stood from the table and smiled at Sammy, reaching out her hand and waggling her fingers. "Come on, let's go."

Turning for the door, Serra took a couple of steps, but then hesitated and pivoted on her toes back towards Grace. "Now," she began, lifting a finger. "If I leave here and you end up dead again before the morning, just know that I will only follow the 'don't come after me' rule once."

Grace grinned at her sister and nodded. "Noted," she agreed, then stood to open her arms. Serra walked straight over to her and hugged her around the waist, murmuring something I couldn't hear. Grace nodded and released her hold, following both Sammy and Serra to the back door, then closed it behind them.

I was finally alone with my wife.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Dean

Routine took me as I walked around the house to shut the windows and locked the doors; making sure our deadbolts and sigils were still in place. Grace seemed to fall into it as well, following me around and turning off lights and plugging in phones and tablets; as if she hadn't been dead for the last ten weeks.

I strode through the kitchen one final time and flicked off the lights, then turned to stare at my wife, framed by the light from our bedroom. She leaned against the doorframe and pulled the elastic out of her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back, dusting the waistband of those red sweat pants.

I was barely contained.

The idea that Grace was not only alive; but sauntering around our house was overwhelming. All I could do was stand there and stare at her. Slowly, she took a deep breath and walked towards me, all hips and attitude. There was more of a curve to her than there had been the last time I saw her, making her look younger, somehow. She smiled up at me as she approached, and I took a long, deep breath, taking in everything I could about her and worried that somehow, she would disappear.

"I can't believe you're here," I whispered, reaching out to touch her face. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Slowly, Grace reached up and cupped her hand around mine as it framed her face. "I know," she answered. "Me neither."

Bending down to kiss her, I hesitated, narrowing my eyes. "I swear, Grace Evangeline, if I wake up and this is all a dream…"

She giggled, shaking her head slightly. "It's not a dream," she whispered. "It's not a spell or a trance. I'm here. _We're here_ , together." Standing on her tip toes, Grace reached up to kiss me and smiled again, "I have my grace back and we're going to find Everett. Our family will be back together again, I promise you."

Nodding, I reached around her waist with both of my arms and picked her up from the ground. "Until then," I replied, heading towards our bedroom, "I am going to spend tonight making up for the last ten weeks."

"It's been longer than ten weeks," Grace giggled, reaching behind me to shut the door. "I wasn't exactly in the mood when my grace was being sucked out of my body."

Laughing, I tossed her on the bed and turned to lock the door. "God, that's right," I sighed, dropping my flannel on the arm chair near the window and pulling off my black Winchester Autobody tee. "Okay, so we have some pretty major time to make up."

"You smell like a lawnmower," she giggled as I leaned towards her across the bed. "I thought you were some big shop owner now, not doing any of the dirty work yourself."

"Honey, since you've been gone, I did _all_ the dirty work, just to keep myself alive," I replied, glancing down at myself. "Alright," I continued, nodding. "Shower first, then make-up time."

Grace threw me a sultry look as she pulled the white tank over her head. "Why not both?" she commented.

"Both," I nodded, dropping my jeans. "Both is good."

…

Grace

My entire body was on fire, in the best way possible. Every part that Dean touched electrified my skin in a way that I had never felt. I could hear _everything_. I could feel _everything._ I was doing everything I could not to lose complete control.

His fingertips traced the edges of my tattoos, one right after the other, as his tongue danced down my neck and chest. Suddenly, Dean paused, and I opened my eyes, and found him near my hips, staring at where the scar that split my calavera tattoo should have been. He was breathing heavily, and his mouth dropped open, staring up at me with those jade green eyes.

"I know," I answered his thoughts. "New body. No scars."

"But your tattoos are all still here."

I shrugged from my position on the bed. "I guess I got to keep the scars I chose," I whispered, sitting up to be closer to my husband. I framed his face with both of my hands, bringing him closer to mine. As we made contact, the lights we left on in the bathroom glowed brighter, forcing two of the bulbs to overheat and explode, sending glass onto the sink and the floor below.

Dean broke contact to look up at the damage I caused and made a face. "Is that gonna be a regular thing?" He chuckled and shook his head. "We're never gonna be able to be barefoot."

I smiled broadly, "I'm still getting the hang of all of this. It's hard to control when you touch me like that."

Grinning, Dean leaned down towards my belly button. "Like what?" he asked, holding me down by my hips, caressing his tongue along my left side. Another light bulb burst in the background. "Like that?"

"Mm," I attempted to answer. I could feel myself lay back down onto the bed, my arms above my head, arching my back in pleasure.

Our last bulb burst, throwing us into darkness.

…

Sam

Charlie and Levi spent the night, well, most nights, in Faith and Liberty's room, because we knew that there was the most protection with the other girls in the Big House, surrounded by sigils and other people. Not having the kids to worry about, Serra and I barely made it home fully clothed. We were all over each other on our way up the back steps and Serra dropped her jeans as soon as we were across the threshold.

"Wait, wait," I murmured through her lips on mine. "I went for a run after school today. I need a shower."

She broke away to stare at me with her eyebrows furrowed, taking a sniff as she leaned closer to my chest. "Ugh," she made a face. "Yeah you do."

"I'd offer for you to join me, but I know how much you hate sharing your space."

Serra grinned and pushed me away. "Hurry up," she smiled. "I'll make myself comfortable on the bed."

Taking a deep breath, I smiled in return and followed her up the steps, still kissing her back and touching her hips. She continued to peel clothes off, leaving a trail that headed towards our bedroom. I jumped into the bathroom and started the hot water, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, finally feeling more relaxed than I had in months. With Grace being alive and well, we would be able to focus our search on Everett. Dean would be more inspired than ever, and we would finally be a family again.

The difference already in Serra was astonishing. It was as if she had come back to life as well, and I couldn't believe how far we had sunk into the pit of despair after Grace had died. The kids had noticed our pain, though they hadn't truly become a part of it, and I knew it was because Liberty and Glory had been able to hear their mother in a way we couldn't. They had known this whole time that Grace had been alive, but we hadn't been able to understand.

I soaped up and washed my hair, taking the time to relax in the steam and let it seep into my pores. I knew Dean would want to begin again, first thing in the morning, to continue the search for Everett, so I wanted tonight to go well. We might not have another chance for a while; who knew if we would all take off together or not.

Turning off the water and drying off the best I could in my excitement, I walked towards our bedroom, smiling and shaking my head before I even stepped through the doorway. There, laying on her stomach, was my completely nude wife, snoring loudly enough to be heard in the hall.

I laughed quietly to myself as I approached. Serra hadn't slept well in weeks and seeing her this relaxed made me happier than anything else. Silently thanking everything that was holy that Grace was alive, I moved towards Serra and pulled the blankets over her. There would be plenty of time for everything else. For now, I would let my wife sleep, for when she woke, she would move mountains.

…

Dean

The morning came all too soon. I rolled over to the sound of the kids running back and forth to each other's rooms above us and Faith and Charlie babbling in their cribs, and there, staring back at me, were Grace's bright blue eyes.

It wasn't a dream.

Without pausing to stretch, I reached for my wife with both of my arms, pulling her close to my bare chest. "You're still here," I whispered.

"Told you," she answered me, kissing my shoulder.

The relief washed over me and for the first time, I allowed myself to believe that Grace was alive and back home to stay. "I can't tell you how much I missed you," I whispered, emotion taking my voice.

 _I know,_ Grace's voice echoed softly in my head. _Me too._

Gently, I pushed Grace away from me and stared into her eyes. "We're going to find him," I continued. "We'll be a family again."

"We didn't stop being a family," she answered. "We're just missing a piece."

I locked my teeth and nodded. "And we're going to get him back."

A stony look smoothed Grace's face as she pressed her teeth together. "I know we are," she replied, nodding. "And we're going to kill Delilah."

"I've been waiting a long time to hear you say that."

…

Everett

I could hear Momma like she was standing right next to me. She was reaching out to me and listening for where I might be. I had no idea where we were now, after Delilah moved me, I lost track of how many times we changed buildings, but I knew that if I could hear Momma, she could hear me.

"Momma," I whispered with my eyes open, staring into the darkness of my cell. "Momma, I'm here."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Grace

I could hear Everett when I reached out to him and since making contact, I was calm and collected. Going to get Everett seemed like it was the simplest thing we had ever done, but I hadn't been able to lock down where exactly he was. I knew he was alive and I knew he was still in the country, but I had no idea where. It was just a matter of making contact often enough to figure out where they were holding him. My son was like a homing beacon and it was just a matter of time before I could get there.

There was a knock on the front door and Dean walked over, checking the peephole before opening it and laughing. "Hey, Cas," he greeted. "I'm surprised it took you this long."

Castiel didn't reply. He simply walked into our living room and made eye contact with me from across the room. "You're...you're here," he stated quietly.

I smiled gently, "I'm here."

Dean grinned from behind him and watched as Cas strode towards me with his arms out, embracing me tightly. "How?" he whispered into my hair. "How didn't I know?"

"It's a long story," I answered, wrapping my arms around Cas' shoulders. "And I've kept myself hidden. I didn't want anyone to know until I got my grace back. I had to protect myself."

Cas pushed me away by my shoulders, holding me in place. "You're _here,_ " he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "How long?"

"Just a few days," I smiled, enjoying the idea that I could surprise the angel. "I went to Wisconsin with Billy to get my grace, then I came right home."

Turning towards Dean, Cas couldn't get rid of the surprised look on his face. "With Billy?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Why not one of us?"

"I couldn't risk you guys," I answered.

"But she didn't have a problem putting my ass on the line," Billy's voice came from the kitchen as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "I see where I rank."

"You had your chance to walk away," I laughed, shaking my head. "I knew I would be able to trust you and that you weren't important to Delilah, so she probably wouldn't kill you if it came down to it."

"She was there?" Cas asked, tilting his head. "No, don't answer that, go back to how you're alive and now maybe more powerful than me."

Dean lifted his eyebrows, watching the two of us interact. "More powerful than you?" he asked Castiel. "How is that possible?"

"Sorry, Cas," I replied, turning towards the counter to pick up my coffee mug, "I'm pretty sure I've always been more powerful than you. I just understand my abilities now. There's nothing holding me back."

"You died," Castiel still shook his head, trying to grasp the entirety of the situation. "I watched you die. We burned your body."

"I know, Cas," I sighed. "We've been through all of this already. I'm sorry you weren't in the loop when I came back yesterday." I smiled at Dean over Cas' shoulder and sighed. "Long story short, I have been in Heaven and I didn't know I could come back until my mom and her friend mentioned something. Needless to say, I've kinda got a free pass in and out." I shrugged and took another drink of coffee as the kids came running down the steps and surrounded me, hugging my legs. "I guess it comes with the territory."

"What territory?" he asked.

"Being Nephilim."

…

Grace

It was as if I hadn't been gone for the last ten weeks. I got the kids ready and dropped them off at their own schools and daycares, stopped at the shop to pick Dean up on the way home, and managed to have sex again in the back of the Tank before we got home. It was a good morning.

By the time we got home, Jody, Donna, Billy, Cas, Sam, and Serra were all gathered around our farm table, laying out maps and notes that we had collected over the last few months. The hunt was on.

As I walked through the front door, Jody took one look at me and walked over without hesitating to hug me fiercely. "I'm so happy you're not dead," she said, laughing.

I giggled, hugging her back. "Me too," I agreed.

"Heard from Santi and Tulley this morning," Serra began, taking a drink of coffee. "I told them the good news, and they reciprocated."

"What do you mean?" I asked, stepping towards the table. Dean was right behind me, touching my fingertips and waist, unwilling to have me out of hands' reach.

Serra took a deep breath and motioned at the map in front of her. "Well, their good news is that they've got a hit on the coven up on the Minnesota/Canada border," she smiled and glanced up and me. "They're heading for the great white north."

I closed my eyes, connecting with Everett once again. I tried to see through his eyes, but there was nothing but darkness in his cell. Returning to my kitchen, I took a deep breath. "Well, it's something," I sighed. "Ev is fine, but he's in the dark, so I can't tell what part of the country he's in." I glanced up at my sister and smiled at her reaction to my news. "I know," I nodded, "I can hear him. He's alive." Dean audibly gasped behind me and I turned to smile reassuringly at him. "He's okay," I continued. "When he's awake, we can even talk, but only for a little bit at a time. I figured that out last night."

Without answering, Dean wrapped me in another hug.

"For my next trick," I grinned, "I will be isolating Delilah and trying to use her to narrow down a position." I turned to Cas. "We know she's an angel, now, so I'm just going to use the same feeling I do when I talk to Everett."

"But doing that is a two-lane highway," Castiel explained. "If you can see her, she can see you."

I pressed my lips together, "Nope," I replied quietly. "I can keep her out. It's why she couldn't follow me here." I turned and nodded out towards the barn. "I can't hear anyone out there. Any hunters left?"

Serra took a deep breath and held her coffee mug with both hands. "Just Fred, but she's at Sam's school's library, doing some research on how Delilah thinks she'll be using Everett to open the Gate."

I nodded, listening. "And where is Sabina?"

Everyone at the table exchanged glances, and finally, Serra decided to answer. "As soon as the angels were able to get free, I think she booked it." Serra took another sip and shrugged. "She's in the wind."

I nodded once, attempting to get a feel for the girl's signature again, purely from memory. If Sabina was still loyal to the other witches that wiped her memory, she would feel the need to contact them and regain their trust, simply because she had no where else to go. She knew too much about us to not be a risk.

"Santi said the Minnesota/Canada border, huh?" I asked, approaching the map. "There's not much up there."

Sammy nodded. "Agreed, but there's a few of Delilah's favorite things, right up here in Grand Portage, right on the border," he added quietly. "If we're following her patterns, there's an old catholic church here," he pointed to a red dot he had drawn on the map, "and a warehouse attached to a community center, not too far away."

I watched as Sam pointed to each position on the map and closed my eyes, trying to get a feel for what Delilah would have wanted.

Bottom line, Delilah wanted our son because he was a Gatekeeper. As far as we knew, the only gate to Hell was in southern Wyoming, where Samuel Colt had created the railroad pentagram around it, protecting it from opening, though that had ultimately failed. There had to be another one, or the ability to _make_ another one. I glanced up at Dean and tapped into his thoughts without effort, and his thinking was along the same lines. "It could have something to do with the churches," I muttered. "Maybe it's a spell once she gets Ev into one of them?"

Serra tilted her head and lifted one of her dark eyebrows. "Could be," she agreed. "But it seems like someone that's as powerful as Delilah could get into and out of Hell pretty easily. Why does she need Everett to do that?"

"It's not about getting in and out," Castiel answered. "It's about control. Everett and the other Winchester children control all the Gates. With them, she not only can get in and out of those places, but she controls whatever comes _in and out_ of the gates."

"Well, wouldn't _Everett_ technically have control of what comes out of the Gates?" I asked.

Cas shrugged, "Yes, I suppose. But who's in control of Everett?"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Serra

I felt like I had been given a new lease on life. Everything was coming together and as me and Grace got ready to head outside the next morning to practice in the barn with her newfound abilities, I could barely keep my excitement under control. I brushed my teeth, standing next to my almost half-naked sister, as she was trying to find a shirt she wanted to wear.

"What elsh cah yuu do?" I asked, spitting toothpaste foam all over the floor.

Grace turned towards me as she pulled on a plain white v-neck, making a face, "What?" she asked. "Ugh, you're worse than the kids."

I spit out the foam and gestured with the toothbrush. "What else can you do?" I repeated, lifting my eyebrows expectantly. "Can you fly?"

"What? No," Grace chuckled good-naturedly. "I don't know everything I can do yet," she continued as she pulled on a pair of jeans. "I think it's all the same stuff Cas can do, but it's just gonna come a lot more naturally than it did before. More effortless."

I nodded as I rinsed out my mouth. "Good," I smiled into the mirror, talking to my sister's reflection. "I wish I could see your wings."

I could see Grace turn and stare into the mirror, turning slightly as if she was looking at something on her back. "I wish you could too," she smiled gently. "They're pretty fucking amazing."

"What do they look like? Can you see Cas' wings too?"

Grace nodded, turning again to button her jeans. "Mine are kind of golden white, with an opal or mother of pearl look…" she glanced up again and took a deep breath, considering her reflection. "They shimmer." She flicked her blue eyes towards me and lifted her eyebrows, considering her thoughts before she continued. "Cas' are darker. More like a deep blue or black at the top and get lighter towards the bottom. They don't shimmer like mine. They're more matte, but they seem to move more than mine." Taking a breath and turning towards the bed, Grace sat to put her boots on. "I get the feeling that angels' wings are a lot like fingerprints. Nobody's are the same."

"What do Delilah's look like?" I asked suddenly, leaning on the bathroom counter.

Grace considered herself in the mirror once more before she continued. "They're big. They're black at the top like Cas' are and fade into a deep burgundy at the bottom," she pressed her lips together and shrugged. "They look pretty tattered, too."

"Good," I nodded my approval. "Maybe that means she's beat up. Not on her game."

Shrugging, Grace put on a pair of gold hoop earrings. "I don't know," she added quietly. "But I heard up in Heaven that the size of your wings matter." She turned to me and leaned up against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I guess the bigger they are, the more powerful the angel."

"Are yours bigger than hers?"

The corners of Grace's lips tugged into a shy smile. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, they are."

…

Serra

The barn was tidy and filled with hunting equipment. Maps and yarn lines were scattered across the wooden walls, with different colored pins dotting all the places where the hunters had tried looking for the coven and the trails we knew that they had taken. There were guns and ammo lined up neatly on a table on the back wall, ranging in various sizes and calibers. The Weapons' Stone had not let me down, either. There were blades of all shapes and sizes for anyone to use and carry during our search for Everett while we thought Grace had been dead. Tulley and Fred had set up a cabin of sorts for themselves off towards the left, behind Grace's old red hatchback. Santiago and his two remaining cousins had done the same on the opposite side of the barn, using the hay loft as their main bedroom, with mattresses scattered along the floor. The Winchester barn had become Hunter HQ.

Grace walked in slowly, taking in all the details and nodding her approval. She took a deep breath and shoved her hands into her pockets as she stared at the maps on the walls. "You guys have been busy," she commented quietly.

I shook my head, staring at the maps from behind her. "No," I corrected. " _They_ have been busy. I've been in a coma."

Turning to stare at me, my sister tilted her head. "A coma?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"Gracie," I began, taking a deep breath. "I know you were the one who died, but for the last ten weeks, I feel like it was both of us." Her eyebrows furrowed at this, but I knew she had to know the truth. "Sammy and Dean plugged away, doing what they needed to do with the other kids, going to work, and all that, but," I sighed heavily and leaned against the old, red Toyota. "I was dead, too. Numb. Hollow."

"You know better than that," Grace replied, scolding.

Swallowing hard, I pursed my lips and shook my head slowly. "No," I argued. "I didn't. I couldn't make myself get back into it. I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat. There was nothing in me that wanted to keep going."

"Serra," Grace lectured. "There's going to be a time that we have to go through that. There's always been a possibility that we would die; we've always known that."

"No," I answered, shaking my head. "I've always known that it was a possibility that _I_ could die. Not you." I licked my lips and broke eye contact with my sister, looking out into the field between our houses. "You're special, Gracie, I've always known that. The idea of you dying had never even crossed my mind. It just wasn't a possibility."

"Serra."

"It wasn't," I shrugged, making eye contact with Grace again. "I know you're the big sister and that you feel like it's your job to protect me, but I've always felt, deep in my gut, that it was _my_ job to protect _you_." I wiped the rebel tear from my cheek as it dripped from the edge of my eye. "And then, just like that, you were gone. I had no idea what to do next, so, I just…stopped."

Grace stood silently, considering me for longer than I felt comfortable. Finally, she took a deep breath and gestured to the barn with both hands. "You would have come out of it, I mean, look at this place. You were surrounded by people that want to help you; help us. I have faith in you, Little."

Pressing my lips into a tight line, I shrugged again. "Whatever you say, Big," I replied. "But you should have seen the boys. Sammy has been keeping me in line the best he could and Dean…" I shook my head slowly, turning towards the field. "Don't ever tell him I said this, but Dean has been incredible. If he's had weak moments, he's done a helluva job keeping it hidden from me and the kids."

Grace walked slowly towards the maps on the walls and nodded slowly. "Dean's a good actor," she explained quietly. "He's not going to show you his hand, especially considering what a wreck you apparently were." She glanced at me and shrugged. "I've seen his thoughts and memories. They're…hard to watch."

"So, he is human."

"Whether he wants to admit it or not," Grace replied, cracking a smile.

Walking over to the table full of weapons, I picked up a classy little thirty-eight revolver and spun the cylinder, checking to see that it was loaded. "I shot you with Weapons' Stone bullets," I began, eyeing my sister. "You've gotta admit, that was pretty amazing that your body just spit them back out. That gonna happen every time? Or were you just tuned up enough that it was a one-time thing?"

"I'd rather you not shoot me to find out," Grace answered. "But I'm pretty sure that it's just how it is now. I can feel the space between the air now…the individual atoms and molecules in the air between us. Same goes for the inside of my body."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Grace walked towards the table holding the blades, touching them one at a time. "I could feel the bullets hit me and I was able to slow them down and hold them together with my mind. Then, I used the molecules in my blood and fluids to literally shove it back out of my skin. The bullet didn't have a chance to react with the rest of me."

I stared at my sister with my mouth open slightly as she explained. Disbelief dripped through me, but I knew enough to know that she was telling the truth. "Does that mean that every angel would be able to do that?" I asked. "Or are they just not on the same level as you?"

"That just makes me sound arrogant," Grace replied, not looking up.

"Well," I answered, lifting my eyebrows.

Picking up a ten-inch, triangular blade reminiscent of the angel blades that everyone seemed to carry, Grace turned it over in her hands, and I could almost see it warm to her touch. I had created this particular knife one night when I had been deep in my depression over losing Grace. I wanted a new version of the angel blade…something with a little bit more flair and style. Something that reminded me of my sister. This is what came out.

This blade glistened from the early afternoon sunlight, showing off it's intricate and ornate decorations adorning the hilt. There were embellishments that reminded me of feathers winding their way up the side and the blade itself was much sharper and more delicate than the original angel blade. It was feminine and deadly, just like my sister.

I smiled to myself, seeing her choose the weapon that I had designed with her in mind. She held it in her hands, flicking it occasionally and then rolling it from hand to hand, feeling its weight and testing its balance. After a minute or two, she turned towards me and lifted her eyebrows. "Can I have this one?" she asked.

"I made it for you," I answered, moving closer. She stared down at me, doubt creasing her forehead. "One of the nights I couldn't sleep, I just started pulling blades out, one after another," I explained, gesturing to the rest of the table. "I started thinking about you and how you hadn't carried a blade since we were young, but if you did, you'd wanna carry something that looked like this."

Grace smiled gently and took a deep breath, staring back down at the silver dagger. "You got that right," she answered. "It's beautiful."

Nodding, I turned back towards the maps. "Well," I took a deep breath. "What do you want to do next?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dean

The last few days had been spent catching Grace up on everything we had learned about Delilah and where she might be headed or what she might be planning. To me, going through the motions seemed kind of pointless, considering that Grace could easily listen to each of our memories and save us a bunch of time, but it really just felt like we were all learning each other again. Sammy was so grateful to have my wife back that he had willingly made dinner for all of us the last three nights, just so that we could catch up with each other, uninterrupted.

"Lib is getting more powerful," Grace commented as she came downstairs from bath time and reading bedtime stories to all the kids. "She and Glory both."

"Yeah, her teacher noticed," Serra commented offhandedly. "Talked to Dean a couple of times and tried to fuck him."

Grace turned towards her sister, raising her eyebrows slowly. "You wanna run that by me again?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Whoa, whoa," I said, holding up my hands. "That's not how it went down at all. Natalie was just checking in that we were handling everything okay."

This time, Grace slowly turned towards me, her hands still on her hips, and one of her eyebrows raised. "Natalie?" she asked, attitude seeping into the single word.

I shook my head. "Miss Sullivan," I corrected, closing my eyes and regretting ever coming home with that tiny piece of paper. "Lib's teacher noticed that she wasn't sad about you being gone. She was worried that she wasn't processing your death well. She was being a good teacher."

" _Natalie_?" Grace repeated.

Words just started falling out of my mouth, "One day after school, she stopped me, and we talked a bit. She ended up giving me a piece of paper with her cell phone number on it."

Serra was watching the exchange with a smug look on her face. "With a heart for the dot over the i," she added.

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing happened, Grace," I said calmly. Flashes of my stint as a demon being controlled by Ouriel exploded through my mind, back when I had screwed no less than six women that weren't my wife. "I swear."

Grace stared at me for seconds longer than I could handle, then her mouth split into a wide smile. "I know," she grinned, glancing at her sister. "You're always so quick to try and get him into trouble."

"Six women, Grace," Serra replied, deadpan.

"Holy shit, let it go," Grace laughed, shaking her head. "Besides, I can't really blame him if something _did_ happen, can I? I was dead!"

I let the lungful of air out in a huff, grateful my wife was Grace and not Serra. God forbid Sammy ever do something to really piss her off; he would end up paying for it with his life, most likely.

Grace giggled and nodded at my thought. "Death would be the easy way out," she commented. Pouring herself a glass of water, she turned towards the table and sat down next to me. "I talked to Everett again tonight," she began slowly. "He seems to think that he's underground. It might be why I'm having a hard time pin pointing where he is on a map."

"Especially if she's got him in a sigil or has them painted around him somewhere," Serra supplied. "Although, considering she's an angel too, it might be hard to do all that."

"I'm still curious about Crowley," Grace shifted subjects and turned to examine my face. "Why did he ditch her? If he was still loyal to Delilah, you'd think that he would have gone back to make amends."

I shrugged, taking a sip of water from Grace's glass. " _If_ he was still loyal," I repeated. "Tells me he's not."

I watched Grace close her eyes to concentrate on listening to whatever she was listening to. I had learned over the years of being married to a Nephilim not to interrupt when she was like this, but it was killing me that she could hear things I couldn't, especially when it came to our son. Turning to pick up her water glass again while I waited, I took my eyes off her for the slightest moment.

Just like that, she was gone.

Serra was up from the table before I had time to process what had happened. "Where the fuck did she go?" Serra screamed, running over to where Grace had been, only seconds before. "Where is she?"

I stood as well, staring at the bench where Grace had been sitting. "I don't know!" I exclaimed, gesturing to the table. "We were all here together, Serra! We know the same things!"

…

Grace

Suddenly, I wasn't in the dining room anymore. I was in a dimly lit living room, darkened with heavy, velvet curtains the shade of congealed blood. There were large, plush arm chairs gathered around a cozy fire in the hearth, and the smell of cigars and brandy floated through the room. I was frozen in my position, hesitating on making any sudden movements, considering I somehow ended up in a place I didn't recognize.

"Grace bloody Winchester," a drawling, accented voice greeted my back. "How in the name of all that is holy did you track me down?"

I turned slowly, knowing already who it was. "Hello, Crowley," I greeted, forcing calm into my voice, still taking in my suddenly new surroundings. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Considering this is my home, I would imagine meeting me here wouldn't be unexpected," Crowley answered, circling me slowly.

For some reason, I was no longer nervous or scared. I was more curious than anything; how I ended up where Crowley was living was beyond me, but at the same time, my newly recognized angelic abilities were surprising. We had been talking about Crowley around the farm table and I had enough time to wonder where Crowley might be. In that moment, my angelic abilities had sent me to him.

I had the power to transport myself from one place to another along the ethereal plane. I held back a grin.

As Crowley approached, he didn't seem intimidated. If anything, he was annoyed that I was taking up space in his house. "I won't ask how you found me or why you're here," he commented, pouring himself a drink. "I've already heard that you're back from the dead and that you have all of your little angelic powers, and then some." His annoyed, dark hazel gaze found mine as he tilted his head. "The only think I am interested in is if you're going to try and kill me or not. I had plans in the morning."

Steadying myself, I shook my head slowly. "I don't want to kill you, Crowley," I began, taking in my surroundings. "Where are we?"

"My homeland," Crowley answered proudly.

"Scotland?" I asked, surprise finally finding my voice. "We're in Scotland?"

"Welcome to the bloody Loch Ness," he replied, raising his glass of brandy.

…

Dean

Before I had the chance to really panic, Grace was back in the dining room, standing as if she was ready for anything. Her hands were flared, and out in front of her, her breathing was rapid, and her blue eyes were wide with anticipation.

Serra was on her before I had a chance to react, "What the hell just happened?" she exclaimed. "Where were you? What the _fuck_?"

Grace lifted her eyebrows and started to giggle nervously as she got control of her surprise. "Oh, my god," she breathed. "I can bamf from one place to another, just like Cas."

"You can _what?"_ Serra shouted. "Where did you go?"

Flicking her gaze to mine, Grace gave a knowing half-smile. "To Crowley," she replied simply. "He doesn't know where Delilah is or where she's keeping Everett."

"You were with Crowley?" Serra repeated. "Where is he? Did you kill him?"

Grace was shaking her head. "No, Lucky, I didn't kill him," she explained, sitting down again, holding her head in both of her hands and taking a few deep breaths. "I just went to Scotland and back," she breathed. "Give me a minute."

"You were in _Scotland?"_ Serra was close to hysterical. " _Without me_? Do you know what could have _happened?"_

Sammy put her hand on Serra's shoulder, "Sere, she's fine. Get a hold of yourself."

Wheeling on her husband, she slapped his hand away from her. "Get a hold of myself?" Serra repeated, her eyebrows in her hairline. "My sister, who was dead four days ago, disappeared and magically ended up in Scotland and back. Don't fucking _tell me_ to get a hold of myself."

She turned back towards Grace as I knelt down to see her. "Gracie," I began quietly, "did you do it on purpose?"

"I didn't know that I could, so no," Grace answered from her place at the table. She didn't bother to lift her head from her palms. "Kinda makes you a little lightheaded."

"Well," I chuckled, "you just Nightcrawler'd your way across an ocean, so, yeah. I think you'd be a little lightheaded."

Grace smiled, lifting her head slightly. "It's weird," she whispered, "it's like my mind has no problem doing whatever I want to do, but my body has a hard time keeping up."

"Must be the human half," I answered quietly. "I don't think it's exactly built for cross-dimensional travel."

"What did Crowley say?" Serra pressed, ignoring us. "What did he do when he saw you? Is he still loyal to Delilah?"

Shaking her head, Grace explained, "No, he's in hiding. He was pretty surprised to see me, considering all of the sigils and defense he has set up around the property he's taken." My wife smiled down at me again, "Must be the human half, immune to the sigils."

"That's gonna be handy," I replied.

Slowly, Grace was ready to stand from the table and I stood with her, holding out my hand to help steady her if she needed it. She glanced at my hand and smiled sweetly. "I'm okay," she consoled. "It was just surprising."

Serra clicked her tongue, annoyed. "You didn't answer all my questions."

"Oh my god," Grace whispered, shaking her head. "He was as surprised as I was. No, he's not still loyal to Delilah. Something tells me that he never really was." Grace smiled up at me, "Isn't that something he's always said? That he doesn't trust anyone; he looks out only for number one?"

"Pretty much," I agreed. "Will he at least help us out? Tell us what we need to know about Delilah to get Everett back?"

"And kill her?" Serra added, tilting her head. "Don't forget the part where I get to kill her."

"He said that he would meet us in Minnesota near the border in a few days."

"Does that mean that he's going to help?" Sam asked, still with his hand on Serra's shoulder.

Grace nodded slowly. "I don't know if he would call it 'helping' but he is interested in being against Delilah. I don't think he has the ability to take her on by himself." She shrugged lightly, "I think he just wants to be able to take his part of Hell back without constantly looking over his shoulder."

"Okay," I sighed, shaking my head at the latest development. "The more the merrier."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Delilah

That little boy was becoming more trouble than he was worth. I had to keep reminding myself that I needed him for my endgame: claiming Hell and opening the Gate between there and here on Earth. The humans would suffer the way that I had suffered. They would feel the same fear and anger as the demons took their home as I felt when I thought about the other angels and our home. They would regret being the favorites.

Then, after I got Hell's Gate open, I would get the chance to open Purgatory and release those monsters as well. Who would they thank for releasing them? Who would be their savior?

Me.

My thoughts returned to the boy's mother and aunt; those girls were a problem. If they somehow made it to the church before I was ready, the would be a big goddamn problem. I chose to ignore the possibility for now, but the irritation in the back of my mind remained.

Tapping my well-manicured nails on the pew in front of me, I ran through the words of the spell once more, trying to commit it to memory. If I got even one of the words wrong, I would destroy the chance to use this church as a Gate. I would have to get the witches to pack up and move to a new church again.

Glancing up at the crucifix, I rolled my eyes and shook my head, wanting nothing more than to take it down or set fire to it, but I didn't have time to deal with that right now. They were bringing the Gatekeeper to me.

"I don't _want_ to go to _her,_ " I heard him snarl at the end of the hall. I glanced above me as the lights flickered ominously. "Let me _go._ "

It took four witches to escort the boy down the hallway and even then, he had majority of the control. "Everett," I declared, "you need to pull yourself together. You have a big job today."

If the boy could have killed me with a look, the one he threw me would have done it. I took a step back, glancing at the bright red mark on his arm, and refocusing my smile. I was determined to play nice.

"Honey," I began sweetly. "You know why you're here."

The boy only stared at me, still restrained by the witches. The mark on his arm pulsed with rage. I struggled to stay focused and not think about what the boy could do. "Are all the ingredients here, ladies?" I asked, looking away from the Winchester boy. "Everything that we need is here, yes?"

"Yes, Delilah," Sasha answered, the scarred skin on her head reflecting the lights from above. "Everything is ready."

I moved towards him, ready to begin my incantations, but as I took the first step, the ground began to shake.

…

Dean

Grace had silently climbed the steps to check on the kids sleeping upstairs as I emptied the dishwasher. I was still high on her presence; walking around with an idiotic grin on my face. Even Sammy had called me out on it.

"You're stupid happy," he commented as he cleared the rest of the dishes from the table as we cleaned up. "I didn't realize how much I missed this version of you."

Nodding, I dried my hands on the dishtowel and tossed it back on the counter. "I didn't realize how much I missed this version of me, either," I answered. "And Serra, oof. What a difference."

"Tell me about it," Sam nodded, leaning on the counter across from me and picking up the same beer he had been nursing all night. "It's like night and day."

I sighed, rolling my head from side to side. "When does your winter break start?" I asked, feeling the need to start planning to put our rescue mission for Everett into play. "Maybe you won't even have to miss work to save my kid."

Sam smiled weakly, "Convenient." He took a slow drink. "I don't get off until next Friday, but I feel like we shouldn't wait that long."

"Grace doesn't seem to be overly worried about him," I offered. "But yeah, a week is a long time to push this. I'd like to have him back before Christmas." Considering me quietly, Sam pressed his lips together as if he wanted to speak his opinion but restrained. Rolling my eyes, I sighed again. "What, Sam?" I asked, "Spit it out."

He hesitated, searching for the right words. "We seem to be taking this whole kidnapping thing awfully lightly," he replied. "There doesn't seem to be a fire lit to get Everett back in the same rush as we did the first time. It's not sitting well with me."

Nodding, I could see where my brother was coming from, "I know, Sammy, but we know Delilah isn't going to kill him. Now that Grace is back and can hear him, my anxiety about this whole thing has gone down considerably. It's not like I wanna take my time to take my son back, but I know that it's not a life or death type of thing." I took a deep breath and shrugged. "If Grace was more worried, I would be too."

Sam licked his lips and stared out the darkened window. "I can't believe she's alive," he whispered.

"I know," I answered, just as quietly. "I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up and this is all gonna be a dream."

He turned to face me and narrowed his eyes slightly, "Is it just me or does she look different?" he asked. "I mean, I know it's Grace, but there's something about her that's not the same."

Nodding, I pursed my lips, glancing at the stairwell. I knew Grace could still hear our conversation, now that her abilities were back in action (and then some), but I didn't want her to feel excluded in a conversation about her. "I noticed too," I began. "She's more confident, that's for sure, but there's something physically different too. She carries herself prouder." I glanced at my brother and grinned. "And her body," I sighed, "damn."

Sammy chuckled. "Her body has always merited that kind of reaction. The Browning sisters lack nothing in that department."

"She got skinny there, towards the end," I continued. "Lost most of her curves when Delilah was busy draining out her grace." I smiled, holding my glass near my mouth, and tilted my head, "They're all back now." I took a drink of whiskey, letting it burn on the way down. "I've taken the time to appreciate them on a number of occasions over the last couple of days."

"I'm sure Sam would appreciate you keeping the details of our sex life private," Grace's voice greeted us as she entered the kitchen.

Glancing up to smile at her, I caught the faintest of shimmers from behind her. When I turned to focus, the shimmer was gone.

Sam was chuckling to himself as Grace paused to stare at me, "You saw them," she whispered.

"Saw what?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows towards my wife. Sam was distracted by Serra as she started to snore quietly in the dimly lit living room, sleeping on the couch with Johnny curled up near her feet. As he walked towards his wife, I lowered my voice and moved closer to Grace. "What did I see?"

"That shimmer you saw?" Grace took a step towards me, "I think you saw my wings."

"How?" I asked, setting my glass down on the counter, using any excuse to move closer to my wife and wrap my arms around her.

She smiled brightly up at me, looking just as she did when we first met. "Because you're relaxed. Because you're paying attention. Because you're more connected to me than any other being in existence," she replied, putting both of her hands into the back pockets of my jeans. "Because you complete me."

Curling around my wife, I took a deep, ragged breath. "Don't you forget it, Nephilim," I whispered, getting closer still. The more intimate I got with Grace, the more satisfied the Mark on my arm became. It was as if a warm, comforting liquid sailed through my bloodstream. The more I touched my wife, the better I felt, the more powerful we both became. I wanted her more each time we made contact.

"We'll see you later," Sammy called from the back door, leading Serra out by the hand with Johnny at her heels. I barely heard him.

Grace lifted a hand to wave over my shoulder and I wasted no time, peeling the shirt off my wife. She sighed contentedly as my lips found her pulse point on her neck and closed her eyes as I led her to the bedroom. I had an angel to please.

…

Sam

"He had her shirt off before we closed the door," Serra commented as we walked across the field between our houses. Johnny leaped through the wheat, scaring up ground birds and bats. "No decency at all."

Glancing down at my wife, I let out a loud chuckle. "When have you ever worried about being decent?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I'm decent!" Serra exclaimed. "At least I'm not stripping off my clothes before my guests leave."

"We're hardly guests," I argued. "We're there as often as they are."

Serra turned to shake her head at me. "We've never started the process of having sex before they leave a room," she said with finality.

I turned to tilt my head at my wife. "We had sex in _their_ bed and Dean walked in on us," I stated, shaking my head. "You literally have no argument."

Clicking her tongue, Serra tried to stay serious as she stared at me, narrowing her hazel eyes in the moonlight. "Ugh," she muttered, "I hate you."

I grinned back at her and leaned down to her level as she unlocked the back door. "What, are you jealous?" I asked, laughing as we walked into the dark house. She walked into the middle of the living room, stepping around the pile of chimney bricks to get to a light switch, still not answering me. "You're the one who fell asleep before I got out of the shower the other day."

"And you haven't had an opportunity since then to sex me up, huh?" Serra shot back, putting her hands on her hips defiantly.

I laughed again, shaking my head. "Oh my god, shut up," I sighed, pushing her down onto the couch and kissing her. "You are a terrible person."

It was Serra's turn to giggle. "If this is your idea of foreplay, you could use some practice," she smiled. "Jesus, hurry up and take off your shirt."

Not wasting any more time, I ripped off my white Winchester Auto Body tee shirt and let it drop on the floor next to me. Reflexively, Serra reached for my arms, pulling me closer and kissing me deeply as her hands found their way into my hair. I dipped closer to her, reciprocating as I maneuvered both of us lengthwise onto the couch. Serra tried to unbuckle her belt as I kissed her, making my way down her neck and her chest. Our breathing came in gasps as we managed to wriggle out of most of our clothes and piled them up on the floor below us. My jeans were uncooperative, though and as hard as I tried, I couldn't get them down all the way.

Laughing, Serra took a deep breath, wiping the hair from her face. "Wait, wait," she gasped, "time out and finish undressing. We're gonna hurt ourselves."

I laughed too, feeling the relief as I stood to drop my pants. "Good," I grinned. "These jeans are too tight to leave on."

Serra nodded with a wicked smile on her face, "I know. They show off your ass well."

Both of us were now completely nude, so I pulled Serra from the couch and tossed her over my shoulder, cave man style. "What are you doing?" she giggled, slapping my ass as I climbed the stairs.

"Couch small," I grunted, "Need more room."

Serra giggled again, "Hell yes, we do."

Reaching the top of the steps, I turned into our bedroom and didn't bother turning on the light. The moonlight streamed in through our windows and illuminated the room with a milky glow. I gently tossed Serra onto the bed and she landed with her dark hair splayed in a wave behind her. She stared up at me with those dark eyes and beckoned me with a finger.

I started at her legs and kissed my way to her hips and stomach, driving her wild. She squirmed with pleasure as I traced her pistol tattoo with my tongue and made my way to her breasts and neck. It had been awhile since we were able to enjoy each other, and I wanted to take my time.

"Holy shit, Sammy," my wife breathed, spurring me on. Her hands wandered; weaving their way through my hair and down my back, her nails biting into my flesh as I hit a particularly sensitive area. I opened my eyes, staring up at her as she arched her back and moaned, still gripping my biceps as I made my way down her stomach.

It could have been minutes or hours, but finally, I was too worked up to put it off any longer. We were both a little sweaty as I leaned away from her, watching her writhe in the sheets as she tried to move to a different position. She sat up enough to wrap her arms around my neck, kissing me as she hooked her leg around the back of my thigh, bringing me back down to the mattress.

Getting me where she wanted me, Serra brought her other leg up and pulled me into position, forcing me into her. I gasped in pleasure as she bit down on my earlobe and we found a deep, rough rhythm together.

By the time we were finished, the dawn was creeping into the wheat. I rolled over in the early morning light and ended up facing Serra's shoulder as she slept soundly on her stomach. Once again, I found myself thinking about how grateful I was that Grace had returned to us. I finally had my wife back.

…

Grace

Sleeping didn't seem necessary for me any longer, but I didn't seem to miss it. I slept when I was comfortable, but last night, I spent majority of my time watching Dean.

We had made love into the night again, and my husband took his time with me; memorizing every bit of my skin, every touch, every motion. He seemed to have a new appreciation for me, (not that he didn't before) but I seemed brand new to him and I knew it was because he had convinced himself that he would never see me again.

The memory made me ache.

I watched his back rise and fall with each breath he took. He was face down, his head was shoved into the pillow, forcing his hair to fluff in the same adorable way it had since I met him, and his mouth was open the tiniest bit, forcing his breath to whistle each time exhaled. He was beautiful.

Reaching out carefully, I traced the scars on his arm and shoulder blade with my index finger, following the line of his bicep to his forearm, and back up to his shoulder. Pausing at the faded red handprint on his shoulder, I opened my fingers and pressed my palm to its center, seeing the size comparison. My hands were smaller than Castiel's, so my palm didn't quite cover the entire scar. I idly wondered if given a new body, would my husband keep this? It seemed like such a part of his body, I couldn't picture him without it.

As I ran my fingers back towards his hand, I noticed that his green eyes stared back at me. "I didn't mean to wake you," I said quietly. "I just couldn't stand not touching you any longer."

Dean smiled gently, still unmoving from his place on our bed. "How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"I didn't sleep," I replied, shrugging softly. "Some nights I don't anymore."

"Nephilim," Dean teased, rolling to his back and using his arm to support his head. "I would have stayed up with you."

Making a face, I shook my head. "What's the point in that?" I asked.

"I'm sure we could find something to do," he whispered, grinning up at me.

I could feel myself blush, though I wasn't sure why; Dean and I no longer had anything to hide. I shifted so that I was laying across his chest, staring at his perfect face. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and lips were endearing. "I wish we had gotten together sooner," I whispered, touching his face. "Then forever would have been longer."

"There wasn't a me before you," Dean answered, brushing the strands of blonde from my cheek as I leaned to kiss him.

Slowly, I pulled away and took a deep breath. "I want to bring Everett home," I whispered, trying to hide the emotion in my voice. "I want to leave today and bring him home."

Dean nodded as I held his face. "I've been waiting to hear you say that," he replied. "I'll call Stu. You call Emery and Jody. We can be gone in an hour."

"Let's make it forty-five," I answered kissing him again. I finally broke contact and rolled into a sitting position. Dean was already up and heading towards the bathroom to take a shower. I heard the water turn on as I threw my army-green duffel onto the bed, throwing clothes and supplies inside. "Ev," I whispered. "We're coming."


	18. Chapter 18

::Hi everyone! We're getting to the nitty gritty and I'm hoping you're enjoying _Ashes_ so far! I'd love to know what you think! Leave a review or a comment! Thank you so much for all your reads and follows and faves. Every email I get puts a big smile on my face. Thank you!

love and internetty hugs,

TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo::

...

...

Chapter 18

Grace

"Emery," I greeted. "What are you doing today?"

"I bet you're gonna tell me," Em replied over the phone, clicking her gum.

Grinning, I took a breath, "Bring a couple of days' worth of clothes," I began, "I've got the basement bedrooms ready for you, Jody, and the kids. We're going after Everett."

From the kitchen, Billy was sorting papers and organizing research books into stacks, holding a cup of coffee as he stared at the map of Minnesota. He glanced up at the mention of Jody's name and I saw the hint of a grin spread over his face, behind his white beard. I played it off, pretending I didn't see the smile and nodded at Emery as I continued on the phone. "We've got a line on her in Minnesota, right on the border. Santiago and Tulley are already up there, and Fred left this morning in the Winnebago. We're going to be about three hours behind her, as long as you get over here in enough time."

"I'm packing as we speak. I'll see you in twenty minutes."

I hung up the phone, then called Jody and had the same conversation with her as I piled up the duffels that Dean and I had packed near the front door. I loaded up a bag of the remainder of our angel bullets, as well as the new blades that Serra had created, but I kept the ornate handled one out, planning on holstering it on my hip. Sam and Serra added to the pile near the front door as they came in, pouring themselves a cup of coffee and handled their own over-the-phone conversations, trying to get coverage at their own jobs.

"It'll just be a few days," Serra was saying into the phone. "You've gotta cover for me, Alana. I know I don't have any more days, but this is it: we're going for Everett."

Sammy glanced at his wife and handed her a cup of coffee. She accepted it with a smile, took a sip, and rolled her eyes. "If she gives you any shit," she continued, "then just tell her I quit."

I sighed at my sister's flare for the dramatic and smiled at Dean as he came out of our bedroom, barefoot with still-wet hair. His AC/DC shirt clung to his shoulders and chest, the spots of moisture coming through where he hadn't bothered to dry off. He raised his eyebrows to greet me, falling into hunt mode as he tucked his pearl-handled Colt into the waistband of his jeans.

"We really should get you a holster," I muttered, shaking my head.

Dean made a face and shook his head. "I have plenty of holsters. I just like it back there."

"You're gonna shoot your ass off," I giggled.

He winked at me.

"Okay," I turned my attention to my sister and brother in law. "Emery and Jody are on their way. Whoever gets here first, wins, and we get to take off."

"Why can't we leave, and you wait for them?" Serra asked as she loaded her black on black, twin Colt forty-fives with angel rounds. "We could get a head start."

"There's no point in you getting there first," I replied, turning towards Serra. "It's not like you're gonna go in there on your own."

Serra shrugged, lifting a judgmental eyebrow. "I could," she argued.

"No," I sighed with finality. "We go together. We fight together. We bring Everett home, together."

Dean nodded from behind me, "We're not going to lose anyone else. We all go up and we all come back. There are no more trips to Heaven for the Winchesters."

Serra rolled her eyes, "It's not like we'd have to stay," she muttered.

"I'm not even going to satisfy that with an argument," I answered, staring at my little sister. "Don't get cocky." Throwing snacks into a grocery bag, I turned towards Bill. "You are completely welcome to stay," I explained. "Or you can come with us, or you can go home. You've already risked yourself once this week. I'm not gonna make you do it again."

Bill took a slow breath and smiled, "Seems like Jody and Emery are gonna need some help with all of those beautiful children of yours," he answered. "I'll hang around here and help them out."

"There's an extra bed in Faith's room," I smiled, "and there's space in the barn. Hell, you can throw a mattress in the panic room with the others, I don't care."

Serra narrowed her eyes at Bill, "Are you interested in Emery?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Nah," a wry grin crossed my face. "He's got his eye on Jody." Billy found interest in the curtains that hung at the window above the kitchen sink, trying to hide the redness in his cheeks. "I know it's been awhile, Bill, but there're condoms in the drawer next to our bed."

Serra's mouth opened into a wide smile, "Use protection," she chanted happily.

"Jesus," Bill whispered, closing his eyes. "Don't you need to leave?"

I laughed and pulled on my left boot, zipping it under my pant leg. Standing, I took a deep breath and nodded. "If you're staying, then, yes," I sighed. "We can go before they get here."

"Thank you," Billy replied, still facing away from us. I threw a wink to Serra, who covered her grin with her hand.

Turning on the toe of my boot, I headed towards the staircase, "I'm going to start goodbyes. I'll be back in a minute."

Serra nodded and brought her attention back to the safe in the floor of the dining room. She opened it and brought out the last of the angel rounds. "We're down to our last four boxes," she explained. "There's three for the forty-fives, and one for the nine, but I haven't seen it lately. Does Grace know where it is?"

Walking towards the cabinet near the refrigerator, Dean climbed the stepladder and pulled down a wooden pistol box. "It's here," he explained. "I haven't had any ammo for it in a while, so it's been in storage."

"In the pantry?"

Dean shrugged, "I like having them stored around the house," he explained. "Just in case."

"Alright," Serra continued. "Put them together." She grabbed the Glock nine-millimeter and loaded the clip with angels rounds. "There's not much. If I had known that she was gonna wake up wanting to leave today, I would have concentrated on making more ammo."

"Are you kidding?" Sam whipped around to his wife with his eyebrows in his hairline. "You've been making bullets since she got back."

"I would have liked to be more prepared," Serra repeated, irritation in her voice. "This doesn't seem like enough."

Dean pursed his lips and held open the large, black duffel on the dining room table. It was full of boxes of ammunition; in all calibers. It was much more than four boxes. There were also blades of all sizes, all safely tucked into sheaths and holsters. "I think we're okay," he said blandly. "You've been pouring bullets since the boys were taken the first time. There's probably close to a thousand rounds in here."

"Still doesn't seem like enough," Serra whispered.

…

Grace

"Lib, come here a minute," I said quietly, patting the bed next to me. Glory was already hanging around my shoulders, hugging me from behind and giggling as I tickled her face. Faith arched her back to try and see her sister from my lap and chewed happily on a teething ring as I bounced her on my knee.

Liberty had gotten much taller over the last year; growing out of her jeans and shoes too quickly. After her birthday in November, her face had begun to lose the layers of baby fat and her dimples had become more pronounced; her lips were full, and her eyes were pure jade. It was like staring into Dean's face when I looked at my eldest daughter and my chest swelled with pride. She was gorgeous.

"Hi Momma," she greeted as she sat down next to me. "Are you going to pick up Everett now?"

I smiled at her choice of words. "Yeah, we're leaving. Em and Jody are coming to stay with you guys for a few days." I reached out to touch Liberty's chin, forcing her to look up, into my eyes. "That okay?"

Pressing her lips together, Lib nodded slowly. "Yeah," she whispered. "I miss him so much."

"Can you hear him?" I asked. When she nodded again, I glanced behind me, looking into Glory's face. "Can you?"

The perpetually happy twin, Glory, grinned at me, nodding excitedly. "Yes, but he's so mad, Momma," she answered, sounding too much like my sister, as she shook her head with delight. "Delilah makes him so mad!"

I couldn't help but laugh at the expression on Glory's face. As much as Lib looked like Dean, Glory resembled me. She had deep blue eyes and long, dark blonde hair that hung around her face in loose waves. She still had the baby, pudgy face that I loved, and when she talked excitedly about Everett, her adorable double chin showed.

"Okay," I began, taking a deep breath. "We're going to go get Everett, but I have a couple of rules before I can go."

Nodding seriously, Liberty listened intently. "What are our rules, Momma?" she asked, taking her role of biggest sister very seriously.

"You _may not_ leave the property," I explained. "I'm going to tell Em and Jody the same thing. We have sigils and protection set up all the way around the fields and barn, including the houses, to keep you hidden and safe. If you leave the property, I can't protect you."

Nodding, Liberty waited for more.

"You do _exactly_ as Em and Jody say, no arguments. You go to bed on time and you eat the food they make for you," I continued. "You play nicely with each other and Levi and Charlie, and most of all, you stay together and protect each other."

"Okay, Momma," Lib agreed.

Glory nodded happily, "Okay, Momma!" she exclaimed. Faith threw a semi-toothless grin at Glory, drool falling to my hands. The girls wrapped themselves around me again, hugging me fiercely, and guilt gripped me just as tightly. I was leaving my babies again.

"But you're leaving to get Everett this time," Liberty whispered into my hair. "And when you get him, you'll all come home to stay."

Gently, I pulled away from my daughters and stared at Libby, my mouth opening the slightest bit in surprise. "What else can you hear, love?" I asked. "Can you hear everything I think?"

"Only when I'm paying attention," she shrugged, staring at her hands. "I'm learning there are some things that I shouldn't be listening to."

Dean's silhouette appeared in the doorway. He paused, leaning against the doorframe and crossed his arms across his chest as I glanced up at him, lifting my eyebrows and smiling lightly. "Oh?" I asked Liberty. "And what shouldn't you be listening to?"

"You and Daddy late at night," she pressed her lips together and shook her head slowly. "Sometimes you're talking about scary things and sometimes you're talking about…" Liberty paused and shrugged. "Like, kissing and stuff."

I laughed once, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand in surprise. "Well," I began, looking up at my husband with wide eyes, "just know that we love each other very much. Some kids aren't as lucky as you. Their parents don't love each other the way we do."

"Yeah," Lib shrugged again. "I just go back to sleep and ignore you."

I nodded knowingly. "That's probably for the best," I struggled through the sentence, trying to hold in my laughter. "Billy is down stairs and he'll stay with you until Emery and Jody get here. They'll probably all stay here each night to protect you." I got up slowly, walking towards the dresser to change Faith. "The mattresses are all set up in the apartment in the basement. I want you all sleeping down there each night, together, like a slumber party."

"Even with Jody and Emery?" Glory asked, bouncing on the bed. "All of us?"

I shrugged. "It's up to them if they want to sleep in the apartment with you," I answered. "There's enough room, but they might some time away from you monsters."

Glory laughed at this, rolling around on the bed, clutching her belly. Dean chuckled as he walked into the bedroom and leaned over our middle daughter. "Okay, Cheese Puff," he began. "Be good. Don't let Lib boss you around too much but listen to her if it counts." She reached up with both hands to hold both sides of his face, making me swoon. "Help take care of your baby sister. She's still just a pot roast and she needs all the help she can get."

Faith babbled from the changing table, tightly furrowing her eyebrows together and flapped her arms and feet. I laughed, staring down at the baby. "I think she resents that," I giggled.

Dean picked Glory up, hugging her tightly. "I love you, Cheese Puff," he whispered, setting her down. Then, sitting on the edge of the bed, he held out his arms for Liberty. "Hey, Meatloaf," he continued. "You be a good girl while I'm gone. Don't go taking apart anything you know you're not supposed to."

Libby tilted her head, "But you said I could have that gear box!" she argued.

"I know I did," Dean laughed. "It's yours. You can take it apart if you want. Just put my tools back when you're done." He took a deep breath and leaned in close, glancing up at me. I immediately got the hint that he wanted father/daughter time, so I took Glory by the shoulder and escorted her out, still carrying a babbling Faith.

As we headed downstairs, I continued to listen to Dean as he spoke quietly to our oldest daughter. "I shoulda' believed you, right from the beginning, kiddo," he began, staring up at our daughter. "You knew Momma was alive and I didn't listen. I'm sorry."

Liberty smiled brightly. "It's okay, Daddy," she answered. "You can't hear her like we can." Lib paused and reached down to his right arm, turning it slightly to reveal his Mark of Cain. "But you should really start listening to your own instincts more often," she continued. "You knew she was there. It told you she was."

Dean took his time answering Libby. "Yeah, I did," he whispered. "I just didn't believe it."

"But now, we're all gonna be together again," Liberty grinned. "And once Everett's home, he'll be easier to deal with too. He's learning how to control himself."

"Is he?" Dean asked. "Did he tell you?"

Nodding, Liberty smiled. "He can make them tell the truth and shake the ground whenever he wants," she explained. "One time, he even damaged the door to his cell. They had to move him to a different room."

"Good," Dean nodded his approval. "Okay, Meatloaf," he sighed, standing from the bed. "We're gonna head out. You gonna be good?"

Liberty nodded.

"Take care of Levi and the girls," my husband continued. "They're depending on you." She followed him down the steps and into the kitchen as I put Faith in her play pen. "I'm gonna load the car and we'll head out."

"I'll help you, Daddy," Liberty added. "I can carry a bag."

Smiling up at me, Dean nodded once in approval. "Hell yeah, you can," he said. "You're strong."

Together, they carried the bags to the Impala and as the door closed behind Liberty, I could hear her say, "Daddy, I love you."

"I love you too, Lib."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sam

Saying goodbye to Levi and Charlotte was harder than it should have been. I just kept picturing the last time we left, back when we ended up coming home with Grace's body, instead of Grace. I tried to shake the thought from my mind as we hugged and kissed the kids goodbye, giving them the same set of rules that Grace had given the girls. Levi seemed determined to follow them to the letter.

Standing outside on Dean and Grace's gravel driveway, I tilted my head at the Chevelle as the metal flake purple paint gleamed in the sunlight. "Aren't you taking the Impala?" I asked, glancing at Dean.

"Yeah, but I was thinking that it would be handy to have more horsepower than just the Impala," he replied, shrugging. "She's fast and Grace _might_ be a better driver than me."

"Grace _is_ a better driver than you," Serra commented as she dragged the weapons' duffle to the trunk of Grace's muscle car. "I wouldn't say no to having both of you behind the wheel."

I turned towards my wife and smiled lightly, "What about me?" I asked, laughing.

"You're definitely at the lower end of the spectrum when it comes to driving ability," Serra answered, holding nothing back. "You're a better shot."

I rolled my eyes, "I guess that's better than nothing," I replied. "So, I take it we're splitting by sibling?"

Serra lifted her eyebrows. "I'm not riding with Dean for the next twelve hours," Serra explained, pursing her lips. "And Grace wants to drive the Chevelle, so," she shrugged again. "Looks like we're kicking it old school."

Dean grinned at me from over the roofline of the Impala. "Just like old times," he waggled his eyebrows. "Come on, we're burning daylight."

…

Serra

We had the windows rolled down and the wind screamed through the Chevelle as Grace gunned it onto the highway. Our hair whipped around, auburn and blonde mixing in the middle, trying to escape the messy buns at the tops of our heads. I turned a little, watching my sister grin and take a deep breath as we accelerated into fourth gear. Once again, the relief that I had Grace back seeped through my chest, igniting the fire within me to find my nephew and kill the bitch that had taken he and my son.

She reached over and turned on the stereo, then picked a song from her phone, after connecting the Bluetooth. "This was a good idea that Stu had," she commented above the wind and Bishop Briggs as she began singing. "Putting the Bluetooth in, I mean."

"Yeah," I agreed, rolling my window up halfway. "I'm sure it'll come in handy."

"It is right now," Grace laughed, turning the music up. "God, it feels good to be on the road with a purpose again. I feel like we'll actually land on top this time." I took a deep breath, nodding silently in agreement with my sister and arranging my bag at my feet as Grace continued, "I put some snacks in there," she smiled lightly. "Just in case."

I stared towards the floor, grinning when I saw a bag of banana chips. "Sam just doesn't get me like you do," I commented as I ripped open the bag.

"No one gets you like I do," she replied.

Turning to stare out the passenger window, I nodded slowly. It was true.

…

Sam

"It's weird driving in separate cars," I commented. "Especially with the girls in one car and us in another."

Dean shrugged, looking in the rearview mirror and smiling back at his wife. "I don't know," he replied, "Kind of feels like it should. Driving with Grace in the car…" Dean tilted his head, trying to think of a way to articulate his thoughts. "I am always on high alert when she's right next to me, like constantly on guard." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know why. It's not like she can't protect herself."

I pressed my lips together and considered my response. "It seems like every time you two are in the Impala together, something goes down. You feel on edge because there always seems to be a fight of some sort."

"I miss the days when the biggest thing we had to worry about was her getting pregnant again."

Chuckling to myself and nodded. "So that's not a concern anymore, huh?" I asked, leaning back into my seat and getting comfortable, just like I used to in our hunting days.

Grinning, Dean shook his head. "Nah, we can fuck anytime we want to and she can control what she needs to."

I closed my eyes and held up my hand, "Thanks for that."

"You asked."

We drove in silence for a few minutes and finally, I found the nerve to ask a question I had been thinking about since Grace came back. "How different is she?" I asked quietly.

Dean didn't appear to hear me, but I knew better. He didn't seem like it, but my brother was a deep thinker, usually rolling the question or discussion around in his mind for awhile before replying.

"She's Grace," he finally answered, tilting his head and staring out onto the highway. "But she's Grace on steroids. Everything about her is exaggerated now…her thought process, her reactions, the way she walks and talks. There's times where I think she's a little bored with me."

"Bored? How?"

Licking his lips before he replied, Dean took a deep breath through his nose. "Like I'm not moving fast enough for her." He pressed his lips into a disappointed face, "I dunno," he continued, "I just hope I'm enough for a full-powered Nephilim."

" _You are,"_ Grace's voice was inside both our heads in response, startling me, but her voice didn't seem to phase Dean. _"Of course, you are."_

"See, and then she does something like that and it reminds me how lucky I am that I have a wife that can read minds," Dean smiled, glancing at me. "She knows I'm telling the truth and reassures me when I need it."

I nodded slowly, still staring at my brother.

…

Serra

We had been driving for hours and finally, I turned to glance at my sister and sighed heavily. I was about to take a breath to whine at her about being hungry, but instead, she smiled at me and nodded. "I know, I know," she giggled. "You want dinner."

"Well, yeah," I shrugged. "All I've had since breakfast is this!" I gestured to the snack trash on the floor of the Chevelle. "You should be starving. You haven't had anything."

"I don't need to eat as often as you," Grace reminded me. "But yeah, I could eat."

"Well," I gestured to the boys, driving ahead of us in the Impala. "Get Dean's attention to get off so we can find some food."

Grace glanced at me and gave a little smile with a sparkle in her eye. "I'll get his attention," she muttered and let her foot off the accelerator, downshifting into third gear, then punched it.

It took us seconds to catch up to and pace Dean and Sammy in the Impala on the two lane highway. Dean turned towards me and grinned, lifting his eyebrows and flirting with my sister. Grace grinned back and said, "We want food," in a normal voice, but I knew from experience that the boys could hear her as if she was sitting right next to them.

Dean nodded and pointed to the exit that was approaching. He mouthed something I couldn't hear, but I was sure Grace was easily listening.

"He says there's probably some food at this exit," Grace translated. "There's a few motels, so there's gotta be food."

The Impala surged forward; Dean thinking that he was going to retake his place in the lead, but Grace dropped the Chevelle back into third gear and overtook him easily, cutting in front of him as she laughed. "It's your own fault for putting a four-oh-two in this," she answered his obvious complaint.

"Dean put a four-oh-two big block in this?" I asked, wheeling around to face my sister. "I thought he kept the three-fifty?"

Grace smiled and shook her head. "When they took us," she explained, "and I rolled it into the gulley?"

I nodded, remembering our stint in Hell with the demon Dekar, "Yeah?" I asked, wanting her to explain faster.

"When he rebuilt it again, he decided I needed to be able to outrun anything that might be chasing me, so he tracked down a four-oh-two and put it in. Reinforced the drive train and everything." She downshifted as she came to the stoplight at the end of the offramp. "It's easy when your husband owns a body shop."

"I guess so," I pouted. "I want a bigger engine in my truck."

"Your truck already has a three-ninety-six. You're fine."

I clicked my tongue at my sister as we pulled into a diner. "There's a four-oh-two for my truck, too. I want it." I got out of the Chevelle and shut the door and turned towards Dean as he parked the Impala next to us. "I want a four-oh-two in my truck."

"I'm not putting a four-oh-two in that truck," he answered without hesitating. "I'll have to reweld the entire chassis or you'll tear the thing apart. Your three-twenty-seven is fine."

I turned to my sister and lifted my eyebrows accusingly. "You said it had a three-ninety-six!" I yelled as Sammy opened the door to the diner for us. "Liar!"

Grace shrugged and laughed as she took the seat next to Dean, leaning into him as our waitress handed us menus and set down water for all of us. "I'm sorry for being uninformed," she giggled. "My bad."

Sammy leaned forward, changing the subject. "Santi just called Dean and said that he and Tulley were almost up to Grand Portage. He said he's waiting in a small town to the south for us to get there." Sammy smiled. "It'll be nice to have some back up."

"I didn't give you permission to change the subject," I said, making a face.

"Too bad I didn't ask," Sammy replied, smiling sweetly at me. "You need to eat something. You're hangry."

I glared at him as the waitress came back and greeted us. We ordered food, ate hungrily, and were back on the road again in less than an hour.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Crowley

I was never one to do favors for anyone except myself, but this was the first time in my exquisitely long life that I was accepting of helping others. It was still for my own personal gains, but what sort of demon might I be if it wasn't for my own benefit.

Grace Winchester was very persuasive.

I left the sigils around my house as I left, ensuring that it would be exactly as I left it when I returned. It was nice to have a holiday home, especially since I would be returning as King of Hell when the Winchesters took care of Delilah. I saw potential in her, and it was a shame now that the Angel of Deception herself was taking the route she was: abducting any of the Winchester children, the Gatekeepers, was something none of us would have ever considered as a possibility. The risk was simply too great. Dean Winchester would come hunting, and that was something none of Big Bads wanted to be a part of. Now that his wife, full Nephilim, no less, was leading this brigade…well, Delilah's death was not the distant future. The future was now.

She had been a fun little plaything while she had been subservient, and I supposed it was entirely my fault for introducing her to a coven of powerful witches…she got a taste of power and she enjoyed it. Since then, well. It's best not to look back at our mistakes.

I sipped my espresso at the tiny little café, watching the giant of a man order a large, black coffee, though it looked like an espresso cup in his monstrous hand. As hunters went, these two seemed to be on the more powerful edge of the spectrum, especially being friends with the Winchester family. The smaller man took his cup and turned to face the giant, nodding occasionally.

"Sitting here, watching, is only going to get you caught," a familiar voice stated casually, suddenly appearing next to me with his trench coat swinging as it hung from the chair below him.

I took another slow sip of coffee and set the mug down, lifting an eyebrow and continuing to watch the hunters from across the café. "Getting caught, though not my intention, would not matter," I replied, not looking at the angel. "You forget: I'm on your bloody side this time."

Castiel leaned back in his cushioned chair and sighed, sounding more human than I was used to.

"It seems that you've been keeping company with the Winchesters for too long, angel," I continued, finally glancing at Castiel. "Or maybe," I added, a wry grin on my face, "you spent too long in Mrs. Winchester? They do have that affect on you." Turning, I let a slow sigh through my nose and smiled gently, remembering. "I got a taste of Serendipity and just haven't been able to shake her from my mind."

The angel didn't take the bait, "If you're on our side," he began, "then you're on our side until this is done. Going back to Delilah will only get you killed." Castiel turned to stare at me, his blue eyes boring into my skin, "Grace will make sure that you stay dead, this time."

"The Nephilim has nothing to worry about," I answered, sighing heavily. "No one seems to remember that I have more at stake than anyone here. Permanently opening the Gates would be detrimental to my business plan. I need Everett Winchester _alive_ , not to mention his sisters and their control over the other three Gates."

Nodding, Castiel stared at the hunters, who had taken seats across the room. "Our job this time is to keep her on _this_ ethereal plane," he said. "If she jumps, I have no doubt that Grace will chase her, but the others would not be able to follow. We have the most power here."

Picking up my cup, I took another sip of the lukewarm drink, making a face, "Keep her here, don't open the Gate. Keep everyone alive." I smiled, "Riveting." Putting my finger to the side of the cup, I changed the position of my hand, holding the tiny cup by the handle once more as I reheated the espresso. "After this job is done, we go back to how things were."

Castiel turned to stare emotionlessly at me, "How things were?"

"The next time I see you or any of the Winchester clan, all bets are off. If any of you step into my general direction without my expressed permission, I will not hesitate to defend what's mine."

Rolling his eyes, Castiel turned back to the hunters. "You do your job, we'll do ours. Stay out of our way and it won't be a problem."

"Deal," I replied, taking a sip of the nearly boiling liquid. "Where is your girlfriend? Thought you two were inseparable."

"Lucia is not my girlfriend," the angel replied. "She's tending to things in Heaven before the Winchesters arrive. She will come when she's needed."

I smiled to myself, watching the giant hunter attempt to get up from the table without knocking it over. He seemed to be stuck in the tiny metal chair, and the other, smaller hunter was smiling as he held the chair by an armrest, attempting to pull it off of the large man's backside.

"They are fascinating creatures, aren't they?" I asked. "Watching them almost makes me forget how much I hate them."

"You don't hate the humans," Castiel replied, not looking at me. "You hate that you weren't given the same attention as they were."

"I hate that I was one of them," I spat. "Useless. Powerless. Ambitionless. Just thoughts jumbled together into a bloody meatsuit, biding their time until they become lunch for the insects."

The angel turned, narrowing his blue eyes and watching me carefully. "They are far from useless, or you wouldn't be helping a family of them."

"Castiel, the Winchesters are hardly human," I retorted.

He didn't reply, but sat there watching me, just the same.

…

Grace

"Tulley and Santi are in a café outside of town," I explained, "Cas is there too, waiting for us." I took a deep breath, readying myself for the reaction I was about to get out of my sister. "Crowley is with him."

Serra whipped around, her auburn hair falling into her face as she opened her mouth to respond, "Crowley is with Cas?" she asked. "Why? What's he doing there?"

"Crowley is invested because he wants the Gate to stay closed, just like we do," I explained calmly. "For now, anyway. He wants Everett alive, and he's agreed to help get him back to preserve his precious Hell's Gate."

"You know as soon as Ev is safe, that bastard is going to turn on us," Serra muttered, staring out into the forest as it flew by. The sun had begun to set and cast a purple shadow on everything around us. "We should just kill him once this is all over and just be done with him."

I clicked my tongue and changed lanes with Dean as we went around a semi-truck. "We're not going to kill Crowley on this trip. If he comes after us later, sure. We can put it back on the table, but for now, he's got a free pass."

"Ugh," my sister sighed, "who are you?"

"Crowley is the last thing I'm worried about right now," I answered. "How many vials do you have?" I asked, changing subjects completely.

Serra turned towards me, bringing her knee up onto her seat and gesturing to the cooler in the back seat. "I've got eight, total," she began, happy for the change in conversation. "Sammy was looking a little woozy after the seventh one, so I gave up after eight."

I nodded. "We're about to get out of Minneapolis finally, so let's eat again and then we should be to Grand Portage by ten or so tonight."

Serra picked up her phone and dialed Sammy's number, hitting the button to put him on speaker. "What's up?" he asked without preamble.

"We're going to stop again for food once we get out of Minneapolis, and then Grace says we should be where Delilah is by about ten tonight," she relayed the information to the boys as I passed a mini-van with North Dakota plates. "You wanna stop in a diner or should we just drive through somewhere?"

Dean's voice came over the speaker as he answered. "I'm gonna need gas again, so let's just go to a little sit-in place so we can stretch our legs. I don't think I'm built for this straight-through long-distance thing anymore. I feel like I'm clotting and I'm gonna have a stroke."

Grace chuckled and nodded, checking her gas level, "Yeah, I'm gonna need some too," she added. "I'll follow you this time."

…

Serra

We arrived in Covill, the tiny little town where Santi and Tulley were waiting around ten that evening. I got out of the Chevelle and stretched, silently agreeing with Dean: we were getting too old for this. I reached back into the Chevelle for the Twins, putting one in the holster under my arm on my right side, and the other into the waistband of my jeans. I glanced at my sister, who had no weapons, but was hardly unarmed.

"What are you gonna do with the Judge?" I asked, dumping a box of angel bullets into the pockets of my black moto jacket.

"Probably give it to Dean to use if he needs it," she answered, pulling on her own brown leather jacket against the chill in the air. There was no snow on the ground, but if there had been enough moisture in the air, I was sure the skies would open up. "Make sure there're enough angel bullets for him too."

"Yeah, there's plenty, as long as we use different calibers," I replied, tossing Dean the Judge as he approached. "It's your lucky day," I smiled, "you get to use the Judge."

"Ooh," he grinned, "matching set."

Sammy ran both his hands through his hair. "Where are Santi and Tulley?" he asked. "Have you talked to them?"

"Grace says they're in a little café near the tree line," I replied, dumping bullets into the boys' hands. "There's not much here. They're probably not hard to find."

"Who's not hard to find?" Santi's voice startled me into turning around with my right hand holding the Twin from the waistband of my jeans, aiming at Santiago's chest. "I apologize, Serendipity," he grinned. "I assumed you heard me approach."

Grace giggled and wrapped her arms around Santiago's shoulders as he approached her. "I cannot believe you are alive," Santi whispered into her blonde hair. "It is a miracle."

Nodding, Grace agreed, "I know. It's so good to see you." Santiago released my sister and she grinned at Tulley as he lumbered behind. "Hey, Tull," she greeted. "Thank you for staying."

"It is good to be seeing you, Grace Browning," Tulley answered in his thick Russian accent. "We have followed the witches. They are north, another thirty minutes."

"Can we hurry this along?" an annoyed, accented voice joined them from the dark tree line. "I'd like to spend some more time in my vacation home before taking my rightful place on the throne."

Dean whipped around, narrowing his eyes into the dark. "Crowley?" he whispered. "The hell are you doing here?"

"I'm here to make sure my position as the King of Hell remains intact," he answered, coming into the light pouring from the windows of the café. "We fight together to get rid of that royal pain in my ass, then things go back to normal and we only try to kill each other occasionally. There isn't enough room for another player in our little game, now is there?"

I clicked my tongue in annoyance and turned to stare at my husband. "This goes off without a hitch, maybe I can try and kill him now?"

Grace shook her head. "You don't get to kill him unless he fucks up here or we spend some time apart first," she replied, handing the cooler from the back seat to Sam. "He's off limits as long as he stays on our side."

Crowley smiled contentedly and nodded once. I clicked the safety of my gun on and off as I stared at the demon in front of me. "If you had said that to me about seven years ago, I would have laughed in your face."

"Yeah, well," Grace sighed, "things change."

Sammy moved closer to me, watching the exchange carefully. His color had returned, and I no longer felt badly about bleeding him dry earlier. "Hey," I began, waggling my eyebrows at him. "How about another two or three vials?" I asked flirtatiously.

"No," Grace answered before Sam had a chance to. "You don't need any more and Sammy needs to be on his game. Delilah knows we're coming."

Dean turned to stare at his wife, along with the rest of us. "Oh?" he asked. "How does that change things?"

"We go in, guns blazing," Grace replied. "We're not going to be able to sneak in. She's started the process to open Everett's Gate, but he's not cooperating, so she's already frustrated. We don't need to push her."

"We just need to kill her," I added.

Licking her lips, Grace nodded. "Opening the Gate without Everett's permission is going to take some work. We've got some time, but her frustration might be enough to make it a bit more dangerous, especially for the other witches. I'm hoping she takes most of it out on them first."

Santiago glanced at Tulley. "My motorcycle is in the back of the truck," he explained, pointing over his shoulder. "You drive the truck and I will take the bike, maybe come in through the forest."

Pursing her lips, Grace interjected. "Coming in through the forest won't matter if she can hear us coming. Hold on a second," she took a deep breath and glanced at Cas. "There's a sigil, isn't there? One that hides humans from angels?" She glanced at me and then at Dean. "Maybe if she's concentrating the brunt of her bitchiness on me and Cas, then you guys will have a bit more of the element of surprise."

I narrowed my eyes at my sister, "You just said that she knows we're coming."

"She knows _we're_ coming," Grace repeated, gesturing between Castiel and herself. "Now that we're close, she can sense us easily. She assumes that we're all together, but she has no idea how many of us there are or how we'll attack." Smiling, Grace tilted her head. "If we can block you from her as we come into town, maybe she'll be distracted enough not to lash out irrationally right away."

"Works for me," Dean commented, shrugging. "Either way, we're coming home with Everett." Turning to face me and Sammy, Dean lifted his eyebrows. "Suit up," he muttered. "We're going in hard."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Serra

I had injected two vials of Sammy's blood as we loaded up the cars, truck, and headed off, Santiago following us on his beautifully rebuilt 1971 Triumph Bonneville. I couldn't help being jealous of the freedom he had on the bike; the wind blowing through his hair and the engine between his legs.

"What's the matter?" Grace asked as she turned towards me, the windows forcing her hair across her face. She held the steering wheel with her thighs as she gathered up her mass of blonde hair to tie it up in a messy bun on top of her head. "You keep looking in the rearview mirror."

"I want a motorcycle," I replied simply, shrugging once.

Grace rolled her eyes. "You only want one because Santiago has one. You have your truck and two kids," she clicked her tongue. "No motorcycles. It's a good way to get dead."

I made a face and stared out the open passenger side window, still staring into the rearview mirror. "Not if you know how to ride one."

"No motorcycles."

We pulled into town silently, our headlights off and our motors barely idling. Grace parked the Chevelle on the backside of an alley, away from the others, behind a tiny drug-slash-video rental store and handed me her keys.

Staring at my sister as I took them from her, I lifted my eyebrows, questioning.

" _My jeans don't have any front pockets and I'm taking off my jacket,"_ her thoughts came into my head without hesitation. _"I really wish they started making good girl jeans with real pockets."_

I couldn't help laughing as I pocketed her keys. Luckily, I had front pockets in my jeans, considering my leather moto jacket's pockets were full of bullets. She turned towards Dean and smiled. We were all practically giddy, now that we were on our way to bring Everett home.

"Well," Crowley's voice came from behind me without preamble. "She just thinks she bloody well owns the place already," he muttered, mostly to himself.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, whispering as I made sure all my guns were loaded.

The demon's face was cast in weak shadow, making him look more sinister than he was. "She's managed to cast a few spells to bring my hounds out."

Grace and Dean whipped around to stare at Crowley, open mouthed. "What?" Grace whispered. Her eyes were wide and in the relative darkness, Grace seemed to glow.

"Delilah knows more of my spells than I care to admit," Crowley explained. "One of them is to control some of the Shadow Demons, including my Hellhounds."

Sam swallowed, glancing up at his brother. "Great," he murmured. "Anything else we should know before we get this party started?"

Crowley rolled his thoughts around in his head longer than I was comfortable. "Spit it out," I finally sighed, knowing there was more bad news.

"The Hellhounds and Shadow Demons won't go after the angels, so don't worry about them. Worry about yourselves. You can smell them coming, usually, and most of the time, you will be able to outrun them, and they'll lose interest. The angel bullets will most likely kill them, but I'm rather fond of my hounds, so if you don't mind, don't murder them all."

I rolled my eyes as I let the slide snap into place on one of my silver-on-black Colt forty-five. "I'll do my best," I smiled sweetly at him, having no mercy.

…

Serra

Grace and Dean led the group towards the church at the end of town, hiding in the shadows as we made our way through the night. It was well past midnight by this time; we had bided our time to make sure everyone was locked and loaded, and cars were hidden all over, making our eventual escape a bit easier. The sleepy little town was barely that: we hadn't seen one person since arriving, so staying out of sight wasn't hard to do. Finally, at the end of the main road, there was a cluster of witches near the tree line.

Holding up my palm towards my sister, I glanced back at her, _"You smell that?"_ I asked, keeping my voice silent and using only my mind.

She nodded slowly, _"Hellhounds,"_ she replied. _"They're probably all over."_ She glanced up and over my shoulder towards Dean, who was sneaking towards the same general direction from across the yard of the church and lifted her eyebrows, silently communicating with him from the space between us. I could see he and Sammy nod, and I knew they could smell them too.

My adrenaline and Sammy's blood made staying still and quiet nearly impossible. I could see Dean gesture to Grace in the darkness and she nodded, turning to me and thinking, _"He's going around back with Sam. We're supposed to come in through the front and take down as many witches as possible."_

 _"You've got it,"_ I agreed enthusiastically, finally getting a chance to fight. _"Count of three."_

 _"One,"_ she thought in reply.

I grinned, _"two."_

Together, we took a deep breath and jumped into action as we thought, _"Three,"_ together.

It was bedlam.

The witches didn't seem to know what hit them. In the four seconds it took to cross the lawn, I had two witches down and bleeding out and Grace held three more in silence, raised off the grass, kicking and pulling at an invisible binding around their necks. They all collapsed in a heap of billowing fabric as my sister dropped them to the ground.

The remaining witches sprang into action, now knowing that we were attacking. Grace walked continually towards them, not missing a step, as they fired spell after spell towards her, throwing anything that wasn't nailed to the ground at us. Each of the tossed objects seemed to hit an invisible barrier and come crashing to the landscape as we continued our assault. Grace wasn't even slowing down.

As we entered the church, the four witches at the doors tried again to utter their incantations, but I silenced them with a single bullet to each of their heads.

At first, I thought it was an echo, but then I realized shots had been fired from the rear of the church as well. Sammy and Dean had followed suit.

We were in the church easier than I thought it would have been and my adrenaline had me practically vibrating in anticipation. I glanced at my sister, who had her eyes closed, listening. From this angle, I could see the glistening of her opalescent wings, at least nine feet into the air above us. They were nearly invisible, and I had a moment long enough to wonder if I could see them at this moment because of Sammy's blood pumping through my veins.

There was a chorus of voices echoing through the chamber of the church. I looked around, unaware of where it was coming from, and changed my footing to be standing back-to-back with my sister. "Where?" I gasped, looking around. I could feel her answer before she had a chance to whisper it. She didn't know either.

It happened all at once.

"Get down!" Dean shouted, rolling away once the debris started flying.

I dove to the nearest pew, squinting my eyes against the onslaught of wood splinters, but Grace remained rooted to her spot. She was untouched by the debris as her shield strengthened, and she turned slowly to get a better view at what seemed to be attacking us. It seemed like the church itself was being blown apart. We could still hear the voices of the remaining witches, but I was clueless as to where they were coming from.

"Above!" Sam shouted, turning to fire into the choir loft at the rear of the narthex. There were about a dozen or so witches, all chanting in one voice, in a language I didn't recognize.

Narrowing my eyes, I focused in on the one face I did.

In the middle, draped in purple velvet, was Sabina Wells, the mousy haired teen that Grace had allowed into our lives from Holden, Maine. The teenager that I didn't trust farther than I could throw her, uphill and against the wind. Sabina Wells, who I promised I would kill if I ever saw her again.

I took a deep breath, steadying my deep-seeded rage into revenge. I would not be made a liar.

The voices continued to chant, louder and louder, over the echo of forty-five caliber bullets tearing through the wood of the surrounding holy place. The witches in the loft seemed untouchable by any of our antics. They were protected by something we couldn't see, a lot like Grace.

"Grace!" I shouted. "Do something about them, will you?"

I turned to glance at my sister, who had her eyes closed and her hands extended with Cas as he joined her in the middle of the room. Crowley was taking his time, delicately laying his overcoat on the back of the pew and rolling up his white shirtsleeves.

"Crowley, I swear to God," I muttered, shaking my head.

Grace turned without opening her eyes and pointed out the back of the church. "She's hidden underground," she muttered quietly, though I had no trouble hearing her. "With Everett."

"We'll take them," Dean shouted, turning towards me with a gun in each hand. "You two go after Everett."

Sammy and I made eye contact and nodded once. "We're on it," I grunted, getting to my feet. Sam was right on my tail as we tore into the night.

…

Dean

I turned towards my wife and took a deep breath as she held her hands out and up at the women in the choir loft. Both she and Cas were muttering things under their breath, and slowly, I could see the fault line they had been creating along the underneath side of the loft. Crowley was busily drawing a detailed sigil on the wooden floor below. Holding both of my guns at my side, I stood up to my full height, waiting patiently for the whole fucking thing to come down.

"We trusted you, Sabina," I growled. "I trusted you with my kids. I trusted you with my wife." I licked my lips and watched her brown eyes open just enough to make eye contact. "I trusted you in my _house._ What kind of hunter do you think I'd be if I let you live?"

She didn't answer but kept chanting; her voice one of the highest pitched. She was scared. Grace opened her eyes and stared at the girl, barely a teenager, and smiled dangerously. "You fooled me once, little one," she commented, bringing her arms to her sides as the entire loft seemed to shift. "You won't be doing it twice."

Grace clenched her fists and the wood supporting the women splintered under an invisible force. The weight of Grace's power was simply too much for the choir loft and the whole thing began its slow and dramatic decent towards Crowley's enormous sign. Castiel opened his eyes as well, still muttering under his breath, and held up his hands a final time as the women came crashing down to the middle of the sigil; the wood choir loft a pile of kindling beneath them.

Immediately breaking concentration, Sabina made the move to take off running, self-preservation taking over, but Castiel and Crowley's spell held her in place. She leaned up against the side of the invisible barrier, her hands splayed across it as if it was glass as Crowley smiled back at her.

"You learned the witchcraft from Delilah, I take it?" he asked, staring at the women.

Sabina and another, taller witch nodded from behind the barrier.

Leaning towards it, Crowley lowered his voice. "Where do you think _she_ learned it?" he shook his head. "Bloody amateurs."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Sam

Serra and I tore into the night, looking for what, I wasn't sure, but I knew Serra wouldn't be diving into the dark forest to retrieve our nephew without a plan.

"What's your plan?" I asked as I ran, keeping up with my wife.

She pressed her lips together, holding a gun in each of her hands. "Don't die!" she shouted, ducking for a low-hanging branch.

"What?" I answered, almost slowing to a stop in surprise. "You don't know where Everett is? Grace didn't tell you?"

Serra slowed as well, closing her eyes and turning her head, as if she was listening. "No," she replied quietly. "But I can hear him."

I strained to listen as well, but only sounds I heard were provided by the forest that surrounded us. The breeze picked up from behind us and slowly, I turned, catching the scent of something I was all too familiar with: a Hellhound.

"Serra," I whispered. "We have a problem."

I could see her nod from the outside of my peripheral vision. "I know," she answered. "I know, I smell it too."

Almost as if it heard the exchange, a low grumble floated from somewhere behind us. We both turned, and she gently pushed me to the side. "Maybe the angel bullets—" but before she had a chance to finish the sentence, the Hellhound let out a loud snarl and attacked.

As we hit the ground, Serra unleashed a series of eight shots, back to back, trying her best to make contact with at least one of the shots. The Hellhound let out a high-pitched yelp but continued to growl and snarl as it attacked us. I rolled, wrapping my arms around my wife, and pushed her into a standing position and she took off running, firing once behind her as she bolted. The invisible beast immediately followed suit, happy to pursue the moving target.

I jumped to my feet, following the best I could as I realized I was bleeding from the shoulder. The hound had managed to break skin, but not badly enough to worry about at the moment. I pulled the gun from my waistband and fired twice, hoping to hit the creature at least once, but I saw the ricochet of dirt as the bullet cratered in the ground behind my wife.

Looking up, I almost tripped as I tried to turn with her as Serra suddenly turned right, headed back towards the church. "What are you doing?" I yelled, trying to keep up and away from the Hellhound.

"I can hear him!" she shouted over her shoulder. "He's here! He's over here!"

Serra turned suddenly and dropped to her knees, laying back and landing on a pile of leaves as she fired four times from the Twins into the air. Squinting her eyes closed, she coughed as blood poured onto her face and into her open mouth as one or more of her angel rounds finally found the Hellhound that chased and attempted to leap over her. It landed with a thud in the dirt behind us, its growls and snarls finally silenced.

"Here," she repeated, throwing her guns down and scraping away a pile of leaves, not wasting another moment. "There's a door."

I bent to help her, throwing handfuls of leaves and wild debris to the side. A handle emerged from the dirt, chained closed with a padlock. Picking up her right-hand Twin, she fired once at the padlock and it exploded open. I wrenched the door open and she attempted to use her shirt to clean her face.

"Everett?" she whispered into the darkness.

 _"He's there,"_ Grace answered. _"Go."_

Without hesitating, Serra followed her sister's orders. She jogged lightly down the steps, into the cellar, and narrowed her eyes, trying to see into the dim.

…

Dean

The inside of the church was destroyed, but I knew this fight was far from over. I could feel her in the air before she became visible: the breeze itself vibrated with fury.

"Get ready," Grace muttered as she turned towards the open doors in the back of the narthex.

I took a deep breath and moved closer to my wife as we both steadied ourselves for the fight. Tulley and Santiago were stationed at each exit on either side of the church, ensuring that no one new could join the fight without our permission. Cas and Crowley looked ready as well, each with a different tolerance for the scene; Cas was determined for it to end here and Crowley just looked like he was ready for it to be over.

I couldn't blame him. I felt the same way.

"It's too late," Delilah whispered, setting the air around us on fire. "The Gate is open. As you can see, I've already made some new friends."

Shadows danced around the walls of the church, darting from wall to wall as if they were barely contained. A rotting stench filled the air, and their low, warning growls confirmed the presence of the Hellhounds.

Only Crowley seemed happy to see them. "Hello, boys," he greeted. "Don't you remember Daddy?" He pursed his lips as a snarl ripped through the room, answering his question. "I guess not," he muttered. "I'll remember that when I hand out the scraps from my throne."

Delilah smiled, "They are loyal to the one who opens the Gate," she commented.

Tipping his head to the side, a knowing smile tugged at the corner of Crowley's lips, "I'll allow you to consider that truth," he replied.

Ignoring him, Delilah stepped forward, only having eyes for Grace. "I will admit," she began, slowly circling around us, "they are impressive." She gestured towards Grace and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "Your wings. I've never met a Nephilim in full power and ability before, but it's too late, so it won't matter anyway. I have the Gate open."

"No, you don't," Castiel's voice came from behind Grace as he stepped forward towards Delilah. "If it was still open, you wouldn't be monologuing. You may have had it open long enough to free those creatures, but Everett is still in control. He won't let you keep it open."

Rage flashed through Delilah's face. "He will," she whispered. "Especially when he has no reason to continue being difficult. If the rest of his family is dead, he'll bow to pretty much any of my wishes."

From beside me, Grace closed her eyes and smiled gently. "That will be pretty difficult," she commented, "considering you don't have him anymore."

Delilah's face flickered with doubt, and her eyes moved to each person in the church, almost as if she was taking a head count. "Where is your annoying little sister?"

Grace opened her eyes and grinned. "Where, indeed?"

…

Serra

The basement under the church was dark and damp and I chastised myself for not having a flashlight on me. _Although, I'm kinda out of pockets,_ I thought ironically. Sam walked carefully behind me, treading lightly enough that he barely made a sound.

"Everett?" I whispered, not wanting to startle my nuclear-reactor of a nephew. "Ev, it's Auntie Luck. We're here, baby. Can you hear me?" There was a noise towards the back of the large, empty room, sounding like the shuffling of feet. I glanced back at Sammy and gestured to his guns, "Put them away," I whispered. "Tell him you're here."

"Hey, bud," Sam began, taking a step towards me. "It's me, Uncle Sammy. You're safe."

"Come on out, kiddo," I continued, hoping that Everett wasn't close to a tantrum after being exposed to Delilah for so long. "It's okay. Momma and Daddy are here too. They're upstairs and we're all going home together, this time."

"Momma is here?" a tiny voice whispered into the dark. "She's back?"

I grinned, finally getting confirmation that Everett was somewhere in the dark. "Yes, she's here! She's the one who told me you were down here."

"Prove it," Everett's voice shifted into a demand, far older sounding that he was. Everything in my mind wanted to prove to him that Grace was here and safe, obsessively so. In that moment, I realized that my nephew had learned how to use his abilities; he was forcing me to tell the truth.

I took a deep breath and moved forward, shoving my guns into the back of my pants. "Grace," I started cautiously. "Let your boy know you're here. Tell him you're safe and that it's okay to come with us."

 _"Everett, we're here, I promise,"_ Grace's voice rang out into the basement as if she was standing right next to us. _"It's not a trick. Delilah thinks she has control. She doesn't. Go with Auntie Luck and Uncle Sam. We will meet you in a little bit—we're making sure Delilah never comes after you again."_

I watched with my mouth wide open as Everett slowly came out from the shadows. His face had aged just in the last few months since I had seen him, and it hurt me to see how exhausted he looked. His normally blond hair was matted and filthy, laying in clumps against his forehead. The only clean part about his was his eyes—from the dirt and grime, they still shone bright blue.

"Come on, buddy," I tempted him quietly, bending down to his level, squatting in the mud near the small mat he had been sitting on. "Let's get you out of here."

Slowly, Everett reached for my hand and as soon as we made contact, I felt a warm, flooding sensation that began at my fingertips and led up through the veins of my arm. The feeling got warmer and warmer until Everett was almost too hot to touch. "Are you okay, Ev?" I asked, ignoring the sensation and pulling him into a hug. "Are you alright? Did she hurt you?" He bent into my touch, collapsing into my arms and started to cry almost immediately. In the distance, I could hear a howl on the wind, echoing with many other voices, joining the first.

More Hellhounds were on the way.

I turned, glancing at Sam and gestured towards the entrance. We needed to get out of this cellar before we were trapped inside. Sammy nodded, understanding immediately, and pulled his guns, ready to guard the entrance as I got Everett ready to run.

"Ev," I soothed. "I'm here. We're here, but we need to get moving. There are some monsters outside and we can outrun them, but I need to you to be ready." Slowly, my nephew wiped his face, leaving a wet trail of snot and tears across his face. "We can sit as long as you want once this is over, bud, I promise. But," I looked up, startled as another howl began and thundering footsteps rattled above us. "But for now, we need to get the hell out of here."

Everett nodded slowly. "We can use the Gate to jump," he whispered.

I had already turned towards the entrance, ready to defend him from the invisible beasts, but I whipped around, replaying in my mind what I thought he had said. "Use the Gate to jump?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

Tilting his head, he continued to whisper, "I can control the entrance points," Everett explained. "They open when I want them to and we can use them like a portal." He looked from Sammy to me, "Delilah tried to get me to open them when she wanted, but I hate her."

I couldn't help but chuckle. I love my nephew.

"But we have to go into Hell, first," Sam offered.

Everett nodded, then glanced back at me. "Usually, there's no one around. I tried using one a while ago, but I have to be able to see where I want to end up, otherwise I stay where I start."

"And you can see outside now," I supplied, staring at Sam. "So, you can open a Gate, we can walk through, and we'll end up somewhere in the forest?"

Everett was nodding again as the snarls and growls got closer. The Hellhounds were onto our scent.

"Okay, kiddo," I was saying, shaking my head. "I trust you. Get us out of here."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Dean

There were spells being cast, debris flying every direction, bullets flying back and forth as I took one shot after another along with Tulley and Santiago, but nothing we threw at her made a dent. The only one that had Delilah on the run was my wife.

Cas seemed to be Grace's right hand during this fight, reinforcing shields of defense around me and the other hunters, along with keeping the witches held hostage in their tiny sigil. Delilah was out of people to use and bottom line, Grace was an angry and vengeful mother of four: she would be the one to take her on. Delilah didn't seem to know what hit her.

I stood and fired shot after shot towards the witch—no, the angel, that had taken my son, but nothing I fired at her even made her flinch. She saw my efforts and laughed, waving her hand and throwing me against the far wall. I hit hard, landing in a pile at Tulley's feet.

"She is thinking she is winning," he muttered, helping me to my feet. "We hunters always work alone. What if time has come to work together?"

Nodding, I lifted my eyebrows, glancing at my wife, who was still in the midst of tossing pews and doors towards Delilah as defense. "Yeah," I agreed. "Working together seems better than having our asses handed to us a second time." Cas ran towards us, ready to heal me if necessary, but I shook him off. "What do you know about spells that can take out that shield?" I asked as he turned towards Grace and Delilah as they continued to fight. "Seems like that's gonna be the only way outta this."

"I need another angel to complete that spell," Cas replied, blocking a pew from hitting me and Tulley as it landed against the wall. "Or a demon."

As one, we turned to stare at Crowley. "What?" he asked, making a face.

"Bringing down cosmic shielding should be something you know how to do," Cas explained. "There are many spells. I only need one."

Crowley took a deep breath into his nose and plunged his hands into his pockets, considering the possibility. "I know a few," he commented, casually watching Grace throw the pulpit towards Delilah as the witches behind her ducked. "But I can only think of one that both demons and angels know, and we're going to need another cosmic being to complete the requirements."

"Grace is a little busy at the moment," I added darkly. "Get Lucia down here and get that shield down. Grace needs something to give and we're not helping anything just standing around, looking pretty." As I turned towards the door, Lucia appeared out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me. "Jesus," I gasped. "All right," I pulled my guns from the waistband of my jeans again. "You three are up. We're LARPing as Han Solo right now—get that shield down. Let's wrap this up."

…

Serra

I watched my nephew close his eyes and concentrate as the howls and snarls got closer and closer to our hidden basement. Fingering the safety of both my guns, I fought the urge to run out of the cellar, firing wildly. _Give Everett a chance to work_ , I thought.

 _"Do you have him?"_ I heard Grace's voice meant only for me.

 _"Yeah,"_ I replied, turning back towards my sister's son. _"We're working on a way out without tangling with the Hellhounds."_

 _"Get a move on,"_ Grace answered. _"Delilah is only going to stay distracted for so long."_

I nodded in response and flicked the safety of my guns on and off once more. "Ev," I whispered. "You close? Almost ready?"

He opened his blue eyes and nodded eagerly. "It's getting easier," he answered, his voice strained with excitement. "We go through here and it'll put us away from the Hellhounds. They lose interest fast."

I grinned, watching the sparking, orange oval open before us. It looked as if someone had a hundred orange sparklers and were drawing an oval in the air, over and over, showering the ground with sparks. "When we go through," Sammy asked, "will it stay open on this side?"

Everett shook his head. "As soon as I'm out the other side, it'll close," he answered, wiping dirt from his face.

Sam flicked his light hazel eyes towards me, "After you," he gestured towards the portal and I nodded, taking Everett's outstretched hand after putting my left gun into my shoulder holster. "When you're out the other side, haul ass back to the Chevelle. We'll pick up Dean, Tulley, and Santiago on the way."

"We're not gonna all fit in the Chevelle," I commented, rolling my eyes.

Sammy clicked his tongue. "We'll figure it out. Let's just get the hell out of here."

Taking a deep breath, I allowed Everett to lead me through the portal, walking into a stone hallway that looked to be miles long in either direction. The hall was lit with torches, every hundred feet or so. I could feel my anxiety rise as I realized that we were walking right into a hallway that led through the labyrinth of Hell, where I had been taken with my sister all those years ago.

"It's okay, Auntie Luck," I could hear Everett whisper right next to me, "we are going right out again."

Turning to stare behind me as Sam followed us through, the portal disappeared, and another opened right in front of us, leading us immediately back into a pitch-black forest. It was eerie, and I didn't let my mind wonder how the hell Everett had learned how to do that on his own in a dark cellar. We would talk about that, in detail, when we all got out of this.

Clutching Everett's hand tightly, I took a deep breath and steadied myself, making sure that my husband was right behind us. When I saw that Sam was right where he should be, I allowed myself to take in my surroundings and to better understand how we would get to the Chevelle without being noticed.

In the distance, I could hear the answering howls of Hellhounds as they searched for us. "That was a good move, Ev," I whispered, squeezing my nephew's hand. "I'm proud of you."

I could feel Everett's hand tighten on mine, obviously happy with the praise. Moments passed as we walked as quietly as we could due south, hopefully heading back to town and back to the safety of our cars. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt the winds shift slowly from north to east, taking our scent right back to where we started. Sammy felt the change in atmosphere as well and we froze when we heard the snarls and screams of delight coming from the Hellhounds. They were on us.

Without thinking, I scooped Everett into a hold against my chest and broke into a run, Sammy following closely behind. I could feel the pounding of running animals in the soles of my feet as I ran, desperate to put as much distance between us and the pursuing Hellhounds.

"Can you open another portal?" I asked, winded, as I carried Everett.

Clutching my shoulder as I ran, Everett turned to face the direction I was running and held out his small hand, concentrating as much as he had the first time. The orange sparks appeared as if they were going to circle again, but they couldn't seem to find their direction.

"I've never done it moving before," he cried into my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Auntie!"

"It's okay, baby," I answered, clutching him tightly with one arm as I got my other ready to fire. "Sammy!" I shouted. "We're gonna need a plan, here."

"I'm working on it," he answered, running ahead of me. "Here," he grunted. "Give him to me."

We slowed down long enough to try and make the exchange, but something invisible hit Sam hard enough to take he and Everett to the ground. "Sammy!" I screamed, firing randomly, trying to hit anything except my husband and nephew. "Sam, roll!" I fired over and over again, eventually forcing the slide to my pistol forward, proving that the gun was spent.

"Run, Serra!" he shouted, motioning with his hand as he pushed Everett to a standing position towards me. "Get him out of here!"

I hesitated only long enough to feel another Hellhound join the fight. They didn't seem intent on harming Sam in any way, leaving him in the dirt on the ground. Their one and only job seemed to be me and Everett.

Hoisting Everett back onto my hip, I ran.

…

Dean

Approaching Delilah from behind, Santiago, Tulley, and I took the piece of string and wrapped it in a circle around the area which she and Grace fought. This binding spell, Cas had told us, would bring down Delilah's shield and keep her here on this plane, so we could decide which one of us would get to kill her.

My money was on Serra, when she got back.

Delilah and Grace were so intent on killing each other, neither one seemed to notice us as we wound the twine around the pews and splintered pieces of wood, except when Grace noticed the witches attempting to warn Delilah about what we were doing. Somehow, my wife was able to silence the witches, while still keeping her cool as she battled with the redheaded angel. If I wasn't so bent on getting this spell done, I would have stood there with my mouth hanging open, just to watch.

Back and forth, we took the twine, weaving it intricately through the rubble of the church, creating a pattern that from this angle, I couldn't tell what it was. We managed to mostly stay out of sight, hiding behind pieces of furniture that the women had thrown at each other. I was just impressed that Grace had been able to keep Delilah distracted for as long as she had.

"You'll tire, eventually," she goaded as she pressed into my wife's shield. "At the end of the day, you're still just a Nephilim."

Grace smiled and tilted her head, holding her arms up as a beam from the celling came down on top of her. Grace held the beam in the air, hovering above both of them. "That may be," she smiled, "but I still think it's pretty embarrassing that you let a Nephilim get the better of you."

"You think you've won?" Delilah asked. "They won't find the Gatekeeper. He's too well hidden among the sigils."

Grace tossed the beam nonchalantly towards Delilah. "You really should work on your spell work," she commented. "This is the second warded location you've brought us to."

"You don't have him," Delilah spat. "And you won't get him."

"I will," Grace answered, glancing at me, silently asking if we were ready. I nodded. "Because Serra did."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Grace pushed her hands, palm out, towards Delilah and narrowed her eyes. Beam after beam was torn from the ceiling and piled onto Delilah as she struggled to keep up. Then, running out of wood from the ceiling, Grace took to the pews, tearing them from the piles that they had created earlier in their destruction, carefully avoiding the pews that were being used for the twine-tied sigil around her.

Grace kept her hands out as she began walking towards Delilah, forcing her hands closed as she approached, looking more and more fierce as she applied pressure to Delilah's shields. I saw immediately what my wife was doing, and I checked the clip of the Judge, ready and waiting to have his turn in this battle.

Delilah's confidence looked shaken as she glanced around, seeing hunters and angels alike, surrounding her and beginning to chant in Latin. Tulley, Santiago, and I didn't know the spell, but we stuck to our jobs: keep her in the middle of the circle. Grace did the same, pressing onto Delilah's shield from the top, forcing her to bend and eventually give way to her knees, looking like she was pleading with my wife.

Cas and Lucia chanted with Crowley, saying the words of the spell carefully, over and over, taking a step forward each time they began the spell over. As the circle became smaller, Delilah looked more and more panicked. I took another step towards the women in the middle of the circle and aimed, ready for the moment that shield dropped, but through the bubble, I could see my wife's face: it was full of fury and I watched as she brought her hands into her chest, curling her fingers together, then flaring them again as Delilah's shield erupted into flames.

"Now, Dean!" Cas shouted, breaking his chant long enough to get my attention.

I fired twice.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Serra

Carrying a kid that was almost as tall as you was hard, especially when you were being chased by creatures that wanted nothing more than to tear you apart. Adrenaline kept me going, throwing one foot out in front of the other as I tried switching hands to continue firing with my still-loaded gun. I had no idea where I was running, but I knew I had to keep moving. I had to keep Everett safe if it killed me.

The howls were gaining on us, but as long as I kept breathing, I could keep running. "Ev," I gasped, "reach into my jacket, baby. There's a vial in there."

He bounced against my chest as he searched my inside pocket. I stepped to the side, spinning us against a large pine tree and I struggled to get my breath. "Here," Everett whispered. "Look, I found it."

Nodding and gasping for air, I smiled weakly. "Yeah, that's it," I breathed. "Okay. I'm gonna," I felt like a fish out of water. "I'm gonna inject myself with this and we're gonna keep going. Can you reach all the way around me with your legs?"

Everett shifted so that his legs wrapped around my waist and his arms tightened around my neck. "Like this?" he asked, his face in my hair.

I nodded, smiling as I shoved the needle to another injector of Sammy's blood into my thigh. "You got it, kiddo," I closed my eyes, catching my breath and feeling the adrenaline surge through my veins once more. "When I take off again, I'm only going to support you a bit. I want to be able," I took another few breaths, "I want to be able to use my hands. I need to be able to fire my guns."

Everett nodded, "Okay, Auntie," he whispered. "I can try another portal?"

I nodded as I reloaded, straining my ears and trying to listen how close the Hellhounds were getting. Being separated from Sam was nerve-wracking, but I didn't have time to worry about my husband. He could take care of himself. Before Everett could reach out his arm to make the sweeping motion for the Gate, I could hear the screams from the pack of Hellhounds, not far away. They were gaining on us.

"Too late, kiddo," I breathed, taking a chance and glancing around the tree. I didn't know what I was looking for, especially considering that the Hellhounds were invisible, but I looked anyway. The forest around us was silent. That couldn't be good, either. "Hold on tight," I whispered to Everett, supporting his rear with one hand. "Here we go."

I took off again, running full tilt into the forest.

…

Grace

As Delilah's shield burst into flames I took a deep breath, holding my hands out to ensure my hold on her was tight. There was no way she was going to escape into oblivion on my watch.

I heard Cas yell to Dean and then I heard two shots in rapid succession. Delilah's dark blue eyes opened wide as the angel rounds hit her in the shoulder and she curled forward onto the floor. There was a bright flash of light and it immediately dimmed as if Delilah was controlling the wound. From the debris filled hardwood floor, Delilah rolled to her side, holding her shoulder in agony. She had her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth were pressed together as she tried to control the burn of the angel bullets.

Slowly, Delilah turned to stare at me and smiled ironically. "These won't kill me," she whispered.

"I hope that's the case," I muttered, staring at her as she bled. "I'd be robbing my sister of the chance to take her time."

 _"Grace,"_ I heard Serra pray. _"Grace, we need some help here."_

With my hands still out, I turned to Dean, "You guys have her in the sigil, yes?" I asked, flicking my eyes to Cas and Lucia to confirm. "Serra needs some assistance."

"The Hellhounds are relentless, aren't they?" Delilah sputtered from the ground. "If I can't have the Gatekeeper, no one can."

"Go, Grace," Dean answered, aiming both the Judge and his own pearl-handled Colt forty-five. "We've got this."

I let go of my hold on Delilah and turned, sauntering out the door of the church, not allowing Delilah (or my family for that matter) to see how panicked I was. As soon as I was clear of the door, I took off at a run, listening for Serra's voice in the forest. The Hellhounds were in the distance, screaming and howling among the trees.

"Serra," I whispered, jogging towards the tree line. "Gimme something, here."

From the forest, Serra's voice came into my mind once again. _"Go to the Chevelle,"_ she thought. _"I'm coming with Everett."_

In one motion, I took off at a sprint towards my car. I would finally be reunited with my son, and I was eternally grateful to my sister for everything that she did for us.

It only took me a few minutes to get to the Chevelle, so I beat them to the alley where my car was parked. The trees were farther away here, so the moon shone down onto the metal flake paint, making it sparkle. Staring into the moonlight, I waited impatiently for Serra and Everett to appear.

It seemed like hours passed, but finally, I could hear crashing through the trees and I looked up to see Serra and Everett, running as fast as my son could run towards me. They looked like they were being chased by something and I braced, ready to fight whatever was chasing my kid.

"Grace!" Serra screamed, "Keys!"

As she and Everett got closer, Serra ripped my keys from her pocket and threw them at me as Everett and I embraced. I threw him into the open window and jammed the key into the door, opening it wide enough for me and Serra to get it.

"No!" she shouted, turning back towards the forest. "Go! Now that my hands are free, I'm," she gasped for breath, "I'm going after those bastards." She grinned at me. "I'm gonna go find Sammy and kill me another Hellhound. Get moving," she breathed. "I'll keep them occupied."

I slid into the driver's seat and turned the ignition and my Chevelle started right up, a deep, throaty, reassuring sound echoed through the alleyway. "I'll circle around the outer edge of town and look for Sammy too," I agreed, "Delilah's down, but alive. Dean and the rest have her bound."

Serra turned as snarls and growls broke the silence through the trees. She grinned as she brought both guns out of their holsters and flicked the safety off both guns. "Let's go, fuckers."

Gunning it, I peeled out from my place in the alley, fishtailing as I accelerated. I turned the corner and glanced to the side, seeing a very filthy, but heathy Everett. Reaching towards him, I tried to run my hand through his hair, but I couldn't get my fingers through the damp, dirty clumps of blond. Deciding to bring him closer to me instead, I hugged him with one arm, tears stinging my eyes.

"I am so happy to see you, love," I whispered. "I'm so glad you're okay. Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?"

Everett grinned, looking up at me. "I'm okay, Momma," he replied, his voice cracking with emotion. "You're here."

"I'm here, baby," I agreed. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. We're going to go save Auntie and Uncle Sam, then we'll pick up Daddy and we'll go home."

Nodding into my side, Everett wrapped his arms around my waist as I floored it through the tiny town.

…

Serra

Going back into the forest, chasing after invisible creatures that were doing everything in their power to kill me didn't seem like the best idea, but I relished the thought that it would piss off Delilah and keep the pack away from my sister and nephew. Now that I was actually back in the darkness, I was regretting my decision.

Behind me, I heard a branch crack, then the frustration that it made noise got the best of it; the Hellhound snarled, and I could feel the vibrations in the ground as it broke into a run towards me. I turned and fired four times, hoping that I would hear the happy 'thud' of bullet hitting flesh, but I was disappointed. My bullets ricocheted into the ground and a tree trunk. I turned and began to run again.

I could hear the howls off in the distance as its buddies searched for the Hellhound that chased me. I turned and fired round after round into the night, but I was only lucky once or twice, finally hearing the satisfying sound of bullet hitting my target, and a yelp from the Hellhound. It was closer to me than I thought, so I turned again and took flight, sprinting through the trees, trying to stay ahead of the pack as I reloaded my left-hand side gun.

In the distance, I could hear the rev of an engine, but I knew it wasn't the Chevelle. Diving behind one of the trees, I stopped to catch my breath again, and inject the final vial of Sammy's blood I still had in my pocket. I could feel the heat flowing through my veins and taking a deep breath, I readied myself, still listening to the engine as it echoed through the trees.

"Oh, man," I whispered. "Oh man, oh man, oh man." I thought desperately for a plan, any plan, that would keep me breathing.

I jogged through the forest, listening to the silence and thinking that I may have lost the pack for now, but almost immediately, I heard their growls and snarls, pushing me into a sprint once more.

Then, coming straight for me, was a light accompanied by the same engine sound that I had been hearing. "Serra!" I heard Sammy's voice shout. "Serra, get on!"

My mouth fell open in surprise; there, riding Santiago's prized Bonneville, was my husband, looking hotter than he had ever looked before with his hair flowing behind him, wearing his tight, black leather jacket. He skidded to a slow roll as he gunned the bike, keeping the idle high for a fast take off. I didn't hesitate a moment longer. Jumping onto the back of the Triumph motorcycle, I wrapped my arm around Sammy's waist and stuffed my extra gun into the holster under my arm. My other gun was ready, held with my right hand as I turned and fired at the pack as it gained on us, running through the forest.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Dean

Gathering the witches and Delilah into the same sigil wasn't all that difficult and my guard was up for the other shoe to drop. Getting the angel and the coven under control was something that wasn't as hard as I thought it should have been, but the last time we went to war with this group, my wife's grace was sapped and this time, well. Now she was a nuclear weapon.

"That went better than I could have hoped," Cas muttered to me as we strengthened the bindings and power of the sigil.

Nodding, I agreed, "Yeah, it's nice to have Grace back."

Cas turned to stare at me, his bright blue eyes wide, "Grace is more than back," he replied. "I have never seen anything like her."

"I agree," Lucia commented from across the room, her hands splayed in the air, watching the group of women that were bound as our prisoners, waiting for any movement. "I never imagined that a half-human could be as powerful as she."

From outside the church, I could hear the rumble of the Chevelle as it pulled up in front. Turning on my toe, I jogged outside to see my son, finally reunited with me and Grace. Before Grace and Everett had a chance to get out of the Chevelle, I heard the pack of Hellhounds approach. I hadn't seen the Shadow Demons since the Hellhounds took off, but there they were, creeping their way across the ground and headed towards my wife and son, sitting in the car. I had no idea what they could do or how much power they would have against Grace, so I decided the best thing was to keep them moving.

"No, Grace, go! Keep moving!" She nodded and gunned it, peeling out and taking off down the street. "Cas!" I screamed, "we need a spell for the demons and hounds!"

Castiel appeared next to me, looking stressed. "I—" he began, shaking his head. "I don't know."

I took a deep breath and bellowed, "Crowley!"

Sauntering out into the darkness, the demon joined us on the street as we watched Grace and Everett drive away in the purple, metal flake car. "Get them gone," I growled, gesturing towards the Shadow Demons and where I assumed the Hellhounds were running. "Now."

Crowley took a deep breath, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he thought. "I only know a couple of spells that control the hounds, and only one that might dismiss the demons," he began. "Which first?"

"The hounds," I ventured, watching Grace turn right at the end of the street.

…

Serra

I could hear the Chevelle's engine reverberating through the tiny town and it didn't take us long to catch up with Grace, driving the hell out of her car, with her son strapped in next to her. The Hellhounds were snarling and growling as they tore after my sister and nephew.

"Sammy, get us up there," I grunted into his ear as I attempted to reload. The wind screamed in my face and my hair whipped my eyes as we chased the Hellhounds as they chased the Chevelle.

The town was too small for Grace to get any speed up, and as we caught up to her, she threw me a pissy look through the window. "Thought you said they'd lose interest!"

"Not if you can't outrun them!" I shouted back, firing repeatedly into the air behind the Chevelle. I couldn't see my target and as we slowed down to turn another corner, I grinned, seeing the highway ahead of us. "Grace!" I yelled, "the highway! Go to the highway and open her up!"

Grace stared through the windshield and grinned, downshifting as she screamed through the stop sign with Sam and I hot on her tail. As she gained speed, I could hear the frustrated howl of the Hellhounds that just couldn't keep up, but my grin faded as I noticed the Shadow Demons creep out of the forest and follow Grace out into the moonlight.

There had to be at least a dozen of the demons (that I could see), and I had no idea what they were capable of. Tapping Sam on the shoulder, I urged him on, chasing after my sister and nephew again.

My default defense was always my guns, so unloaded about twelve shots towards the Shadow Demons, but the angel bullets did no damage that I could see. I watched as the demons attacked the Chevelle over and over, denting the roof each time they attacked. One of them managed to push the driver's side door hard enough to force Grace onto the shoulder of the highway before she could correct. The tires screeched as Grace fought with the wheel, keeping them on the road.

"Sere!" she shouted as we paced them once more, "I've got an idea," she began, glancing at me, then back at the road ahead of her.

"Something tells me I'm not gonna like it," I replied over the wind as Sam ducked, narrowly avoiding another demon as it divebombed us.

Grace pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "Probably not," she answered, turning to take her son's hand. "Don't let my car crash."

Effortlessly hearing the rest of her plan in my head, I closed my eyes and shook my head, holstering my pistols as we evaded yet another demon attack. "I'm not making any promises," I replied, bracing myself. "And if Dean completely flips, just remember this was your idea!"

She took a deep breath and nodded. "He forgets we can hear each other again," she chuckled ironically. "I filled him in, but," Grace smiled weakly at me. "You know."

I nodded.

"Ready?" she asked, staring out at the highway.

Sam glanced back at the both of us. "What are we ready for?" He saw me and my sister staring at each other, preparing for the stunt we were about to pull.

"Just drive, Sam," I replied, clutching his waist tightly as I pulled my other leg onto the same side of the motorcycle, making the Bonneville weave, and took a deep breath. We were going way too fast for me to feel good about this. Grace and I had pulled off a lot of shit, but this might be the biggest, most dangerous thing we had tried with a car. Taking a quick peek at the speedometer, I saw that we were pushing seventy-five miles an hour, still dodging Shadow Demons as they continued to try and push us off the side of the road, which they got closer and closer to every time they buzzed us.

"On the count of three," Grace whispered, though I heard her as if she screamed it.

Nodding, I took a deep breath, "One."

"Two."

"Hold on to the bike, Sam," I shouted. He nodded, bracing for whatever we were about to do. "Three!"

Immediately, Grace and Everett disappeared on the spot and I threw myself, headfirst, into the Chevelle, as carefully as I could to avoid hitting the stick or the steering wheel. Sam weaved more than I was comfortable with, but stayed upright on the Bonneville, swearing loudly. I righted myself in the driver's seat, where my sister had just been, and shook my head at our dumb luck. There's no way that should have worked.

…

Grace

I held my breath as I grasped my son's hand. I was doing what any mother would do: I was removing my son from the dangerous situation. I had never transported myself (or anyone else for that matter) through any cosmic dimension on purpose, but I was confident that I would be able to pull it off. I just didn't want my car to crash, considering we were doing over seventy-five and the Chevelle tended to pull to the right, which happened to be a fifty-foot drop off, straight down to the bay of water at the bottom of a sheer, rocky cliff.

It happened in an instant.

Suddenly, the hardwood floor of my dining room was too close, and Everett and I landed hard in a heap on the ground. Billy and Jody looked up immediately, complete surprise taking over their faces. I tried to smile up at them as I got to my feet and helped Everett do the same. I patted him down quickly, making sure the sudden appearance in our dining room hadn't physically hurt him. I would deal with the emotional retributions later.

"You okay, kiddo?" I asked, bending down to my son. I flicked my eyes up to Jody. "I have to go back," I muttered. "They're not safe."

"I am so glad he is," Jody's eyes were filled with tears as she bent down to hug Everett. He squeezed his eyes closed as he reciprocated the hug.

Bill stared, open mouthed at me, "How did you—?"

Taking a deep breath, I threw a glance at Bill, and noticed the bottle of wine and wine glasses on my table. Tossing him a wink, I said, "Keep him safe," I whispered, bending down to hug my son again. "Clean him up. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Jody nodded as I closed my eyes, concentrating. It was one thing to throw myself cross-dimensionally into a house that wasn't moving from a car that was, but it was a different thing entirely to do the same in reverse. Once again, I _pushed_ myself towards my Chevelle _imagined_ myself reappearing in the passenger seat next to my sister.

Opening my eyes, I turned and smiled at Serra as I plopped back into the seat.

"Holy _fuck_ ," Serra exclaimed, staring at me. " _That's_ gonna take some getting used to."

I nodded, feeling a little dizzy after my roundtrip, "Tell me about it," I sighed. "Alright," I continued, turning to stare at the demons that continued to bump and shove the Chevelle, trying to get it off the road. "How do you wanna play this?"

Serra's lips pulled into a wry grin, staring at me with a twinkle in her eye. "Switch," she declared, grinning at Sam. "Stay with us! Now we're playing for keeps!"

"I'll back your play!" he shouted, shaking his head in amazement, pulling out one of his guns.

Serra stood, bending to move to the passenger seat as I slid underneath, once again taking control of my car. I felt the best behind the wheel and now that I had successfully gotten my son to safety, I was in full-angel mode. It was time to double-down and get this job done.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Dean

I couldn't hear or see the Chevelle anymore, and Grace had telepathically filled me in on her plan to get Everett home. " _Be safe,"_ I thought, taking a deep breath and holding it. I had to admit, I was in awe of my wife, but it physically hurt that I hadn't been able to see or hold my son before she took him home.

The idea that she could even _do something_ like that was enough to floor me.

The building behind me rattled with Delilah's rage as she attempted to leave the binding circle again. I turned towards the sigil, still holding the women hostage, and smiled lightly, seeing Cas was nearby and threw her a warning look. "You will not be able to escape," he said calmly. "There's no point in your anger."

She didn't reply, but instead threw him a look full of daggers.

"Oh, man," I commented. "If looks could kill."

"You're remarkably relaxed for a husband whose wife is fighting for her life right about now," Delilah spat. "The Shadow Demons are not physical entities. Bullets do nothing." She smiled ironically. "Your son found them and brought them out himself."

I walked calmly towards the redhead, just out of reach from the sigil. "If you think you scare me, you've got it wrong, Pippi," I replied. "Grace has all her mojo back, you're bound in _this_ magical delight, and my sister-in-law has learned a new trick or two." I made a face, pursing my lips. "Honestly, I feel a little useless on this mission. Our girls can kick ass." Delilah stared at me, looking confused. I stared back, wondering where I lost her and smiled, "Pippi? Pippi Longstocking? Red head?" I shook my head. "Never mind. Can't even make jokes anymore." I glanced over towards Cas and shrugged, "Useless."

"You are not useless," Cas comforted.

I laughed and shrugged him off, turning back towards the angel we had trapped in the twine sigil. "How we doing, Crowley?" I asked, turning towards he and Lucia. "Get the Hellhounds put away yet?"

Crowley looked unamused. "Timothy is having a hard time taking orders," he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "But Rasputin and Simon are on their way back through the portal, and Merida is coming."

"Did you pick those names?" I asked, walking towards the back of the church, still trying my damndest not to worry about Grace and the fact that I couldn't hear the Chevelle.

"Hardly," came Crowley's reply. "I let the demons in my court name them. "You'd think they'd come up with something a little cleverer."

I smiled, "Like Fluffy?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "The Shadow Demons are going to be harder to contain. It would be easier if they were clustered in the same place, so I could trap them first."

My ears perked as I felt, rather than heard, the low rumble of my wife's Chevy. Either the wind caught it just right or she was on her way back from wherever they were. "Well, get ready," I commented, checking my guns, "sounds like Grace is bringing the party to us."

…

Serra

Grace had always been a better driver than me, but I was a better shot than her, so it worked out when it needed to, but I had no idea how to fight the things that were chasing us.

"Can we banish them?" I shouted to Sammy as he paced us down the highway. "Like a regular demon? Just exorcise them?"

Sam glanced behind him, keeping the Triumph right next to Grace's door as another demon pushed itself against the driver's side rear fender, hell-bent on pushing us off the road. Holding tight onto the wheel, Grace pushed back, not allowing the demon to fishtail the Chevelle across the pavement. Sammy turned to watch the Shadow Demon take off again, darting back and forth between the tree line and the moonlight. "I don't know!" he shouted, replying to my question, "We can find out!"

In unison, Sam and I began the Latin chant that we knew so well, trying to send the demons back to Hell. Before we could even get to the second line, the demons seemed to be enraged and threw themselves even more forcibly towards the car, aiming at the tires and the trunk, trying to get Grace to lose control.

"Sammy!" Grace shouted suddenly, turning towards my husband. "Back off. I don't want to take you down."

Trusting Grace, Sam released the accelerator on the motorcycle and downshifted, dropping behind us by about twenty yards. Flicking her bright blue gaze towards me, Grace took a deep breath. "Hold onto something," she muttered, downshifting into second gear, slamming on the brakes and pulling the emergency brake as she turned the wheel as hard as she could, taking us into an almost immediate one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. The Chevelle was heavy though, and it did not fall into step easily. Bracing myself against the open window, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stay as oriented as possible.

As we came out of the spin, Grace released the emergency brake and threw the clutch down, shifting again and accelerating as hard as the four-oh-two would let her. The Chevelle's engine screamed in protest, but followed orders, picking up speed quickly and almost leaving Sam in the dust. As soon as we were clear of the turn, Grace closed her eyes, let go of the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

The world around us went silent.

…

Dean

I walked to the end of the carpet that lined the narthex of the church and strained my ears, trying to hear what was happening in the moonlight. The growls and snarls of the Hellhounds had been silenced, but there were new, terrifying sounds in the darkness. The Shadow Demons were doing their best, I was sure, to murder my wife, brother, and sister-in-law.

In the front of the church, Delilah stood, staring with me with a small grin on her face. She let out a low chuckle. "Sounds like things aren't going well," she commented quietly, staring at her nails, and picking at a cuticle. "Isn't that a shame."

I ignored the angel for the moment, but she probably had a point. Maybe we got cocky, thinking that Grace had enough power to take it all on. I tried to take a calming breath, but it just came in raspy and stuttered.

"Dean, wait," Cas started, taking a step towards me. "Grace is being pursued, yes, but she's in control. She is safe and headed back this way."

"Is she?" Delilah pushed. "Surrounded by demons in a coffin made of metal. The rocky cliffs just calling her name."

I turned back towards the angel and clenched my fists, fighting the urge to approach her. It's what she wanted. "She's Nephilim with all of her grace," I replied. "Even if she went over, she would be fine."

"What about your mortal brother or the Warrior? Even loaded up on whatever boost juice she's taking lately, would they survive that fall?"

I kept my mouth shut, fighting the need to bicker with this woman, but took another step forward. She was toying with my emotions, just begging to be silenced.

"Dean, no," Lucia muttered, holding her hand towards my chest. "Ignore her. It's what she wants; you to lose your patience."

The longer I stayed in the narthex with Delilah, the harder it was to control my anger. It's like she was peeling my defenses down, one layer at a time, and closing my eyes, I took another breath, steadying myself. Absentmindedly, I scratched my arm and as I made contact, I realized that the Mark of Cain was raised and irritated.

"What are you doing to me?" I asked, staring down at it, knowing that my contact with Grace had it well under control.

"What, indeed?" Delilah replied, smiling coyly up at me.

…

Serra

We had to be doing close to ninety miles an hour in a world that had gone completely silent. The only way I knew we were still speeding down the highway was that my hair whipped around the cabin of the car like a tornado, but it didn't make a sound.

"What's happening?" I asked, turning to stare out the back window. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking them back to the church," Grace replied, locking her teeth together determinedly.

I furrowed my eyebrows, staring out the windows, and tried to make sense of what my sister was talking about. "Taking them back," I repeated. Finally, I saw what she was talking about. There, behind us, was a cluster of Shadow Demons, darting around in a tiny, invisible bubble behind us, looking as if they were trapped in a hot air balloon that was being towed by the Chevelle. "How are you doing this?" I whispered, staring with wide eyes at the bubble of demons.

"I'm tired," Grace replied. "I want to go _home."_

Shaking my head, I argued, "That's not answering the question, Grace." Up on my knees, I turned to get a better look out the passenger side window. "How are you _doing_ this?"

"I don't really know," she answered. "I pictured the demon trap and pushed them into it. I don't know how I did it, but it's working."

Sam pulled up next to us, his hair being pushed almost straight back in the wind as he struggled to keep up. "Hey!" he shouted, "Is that you?"

I nodded, "It's her! She's towing them!"

"And the weird silence?"

Grace rolled her head from side to side, "It's to make sure they can't communicate with Delilah," she commented. "Like I said," she glanced at Sam, "I want to go home."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Dean

The heat was traveling slowly up my arm, making its way into my chest, bringing the rage I used to feel right along with it. Cas was approaching me slowly, seeing immediately what was happening. "Dean," he began quietly. "Get control. She's manipulating you."

"She's doing a damn good job, too," I growled, clenching my fists. "This feels more like a curse than the Mark. I need to get out of here."

"Go," Lucia pointed towards the exit in the back of the church.

Already, my head was pounding with negativity and disdain for everything and everyone around me. I fingered the Colt in my hand, tapping the barrel with my finger and itchy to let loose.

"Out," I heard a deep, ragged voice demand. "You go out, now," Tulley commanded, beginning to lumber towards me.

I could feel myself lower my head and watch Tulley approach, almost predatorily. I tilted my head and raised my gun, aiming it at his chest. "I'll do what I please," I heard myself say.

I didn't see him, mainly because he was so much smaller and quicker than Tulley, but Santiago came from nowhere, tackling me to the ground and kicking my gun across the room. "Take him," Santi grunted to Tulley, knowing that I could easily outpower him. "Take him before he gets back up."

Bending down, Tulley took both of my wrists into his one hand and pulled me to a standing position. Cas was already walking towards me, holding out his hands and closing his eyes, saying, "I'm sorry Dean, but it's just not worth it. We need to control what we can until Grace gets here. Then we can figure out what to do with them."

My inner monologue agreed wholeheartedly with Cas, but everything in my body wanted to fight back. I writhed against Tulley's grip on my wrists and lashed out again and again, trying to kick him or bite him, but he was so much bigger than me, I didn't even phase him.

"He's got two more guns in his pants," Crowley muttered, shaking his head. "So weak minded, Squirrel, letting the red head get into yours. I must say I'm a little disappointed."

 _"I'm almost there,"_ Grace's voice rang out all around us, as if she was speaking from a megaphone. _"Keep him away from Delilah. I've got the demons contained. Cas and Lucia, get ready to help me banish them."_

"Is good thing your wife can hold things together," Tulley grunted. "Always good for that, Grace Browning has been."

Santiago tied my wrists together with enough zip ties that I lost count, then they both did the same for my ankles. Tulley carried me to the back of the church to the steps and set me down, not quite gently enough. Hitting my head on the cement shook some sense into me and momentarily, I wondered why my hands and feet were tied. Maybe Delilah's curses had a limit to their distance.

 _"Head's up,"_ came Grace's voice once more. _"Delilah's pushing it."_

The angels and Crowley turned in unison to the back of the church, where Delilah had somehow stepped over the twine sigil's boundary and was walking straight towards Santiago, her hand extended and flames in her eyes. He raised his gun to fire on her, but it was too little, too late. She flicked her finger and Santiago's head turned sharply, breaking his neck and letting him fall into a pile on the floor.

"Oh shit," I breathed, looking up at Tulley. "Let me help," I grunted, struggling against my bindings. "Tulley! Help me!"

Delilah continued towards the giant of a man and lifted the palm of her hand, taking Tulley with her. His face reddened as he gasped, trying to suck air, but she was holding his throat closed. He was suffocating.

Cas and Lucia rushed towards us, hands out, firing sparks and spells towards the angel, but everything seemed to rebound, causing no harm. In a lumbering crash, Delilah let a lifeless Tulley drop to the floor.

She turned on me next, smiling down at me sweetly as she pressed a high-heeled boot onto my throat. "Yes," she whispered, "answering your question. You got cocky."

Out of nowhere, the purple, metal flake Chevy screeched to a stop in front of the church and Grace leaped out of the vehicle, followed closely by her sister. Sam was close behind, whipping Santiago's motorcycle into a messy park job in front of the driveway.

Raising her hands to the air, Grace closed her eyes and pushed her hands out, palms towards us. As if they responded to her commands, the demon cloud behind her whipped towards the church, screaming and spitting, looking for their next target. Delilah stared at the cloud and rolled her eyes, lifting her hand and pushing the cloud of demons back towards Grace and Serra.

The girls weren't amused.

Serra unloaded about twelve rounds towards Delilah, trying to catch her off guard and Grace strengthened her shields, moving towards the renegade angel again. The battle was starting all over again and it was all my fault. I should have been stronger against her spells. I should have been able to resist her.

"Serra," Grace said lightly, though still concentrating on holding Delilah at bay, "you ready to go all in?"

Looking like she would ignite from the inside, my sister-in-law launched herself towards Delilah and ran, full tilt, towards her, looking like she was the star of the football team. She tackled the surprised angel and brought her to the ground, restraining her by wrapping her arms and legs completely around Delilah's body. Immediately, uttering spell after spell, Delilah tried to fight Serra off, but she held on and eventually, rolled Delilah to her back and pinned her to the ground. I was amazed that Serra seemed immune to the spells and enchantments the angel tried to cast onto her, but then I remembered: my sister was hopped up on Sammy's blood.

Delilah managed to get an arm free and hit Serra across the face, dropping an angel blade out of the sleeve of her dress and flinging it back towards Serra's face. She got a good swipe in, breaking skin, which just seemed to enrage Serra. Suddenly, the lights in the church flickered and went out, throwing the entire surrounding area into near-pitch black.

"Serra?" Sam whispered. "What's happening?"

Then, as if Serra was a lighthouse, and light poured from her every orifice. She was too bright to look at directly. I attempted to shield my face from the brightness, but my hands were still zip-tied together. Grace stared right into the light and in the brightness of our surroundings, I could see her smile.

"Ev," she whispered, "open it, baby."

I could feel my mouth drop open as a large, orange sparking oval opened on the floor near Grace, Serra, and Delilah. Grace pointed to the opening, glanced up at the demons, still caught in her trap, and without hesitation, the group of shadows launched themselves into the hole.

Serra's glow didn't dampen as she wrapped her fist into Delilah's hair, obviously getting a good grip and control over the angel. She turned to smile and wink at Sam, but then rolled both she and Delilah across the floor and fell into the portal. Grace took a deep breath and nodded. "Everett," she said again, "Close it up."

Immediately, the church went silent; the spells dying with Delilah's disappearance. The witches in the back, Sabina included, cowered to the back of their trap, watching with fear in their eyes as Grace walked towards them, but bent to Santiago and Tulley's limp bodies. Bending to cut me free, Sam watched Grace silently as he folded his pocket knife back together. I observed silently too, waiting for the miracle we both expected.

Grace reached to touch Santiago's face, tears welling in her eyes as she listened to something I couldn't hear. Cas and Lucia bent to kneel next to her with their eyes closed, listening with Grace. Cas reached for both Tulley and Santiago with Lucia, trying to heal them and bring the hunters back to us.

Glancing at Sam, I shook my head. We always seemed to lose the best ones.

"I am sorry, Grace," Cas whispered, placing his hand on top of hers. "There's nothing more I can do."

"It's a good thing I'm here, then," a voice came from behind me, scaring the almighty shit outta me. I was on my feet in seconds, Sammy and me both turned to face the voice that approached us from behind. "Yeah," he continued. "Sorry. Hi."

" _Chuck?"_ Sammy gasped, his eyebrows hitting his hairline. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Chuck gestured to the group of angels kneeling around the hunters, "Grace," he answered simply, shrugging. "Grace asked nicely."

Sammy was shaking his head slowly in disbelief. "Asked nicely," he repeated, finally turning to stare at me with wide eyes.

I just shook my head at him in return. I couldn't believe it either.

Chuck walked towards Grace, Cas, and Lucia, rubbing his hands together slowly. "So," he began, touching Cas and Lucia lightly on the head to force them out of their bow. "Delilah."

Grace sighed heavily and stood, gesturing towards the witches that were still being held in the sigil in the front of the church. "Delilah has been a thorn in our side for quite a long time now, taking our kids, holding them hostage, forcing them to do things they don't want to do, trying to get the Gates open," she began. "So, I hope you'll excuse my French when I ask, _where the fuck_ have you been?'" She lifted a single eyebrow. "You could have had this _handled_ in about ten minutes."

"It would have taken less time than that," Chuck answered, shrugging his shoulders. "If you didn't go through the process, you wouldn't have reached full maturity, Grace." He smiled lightly, gesturing at her and glancing to the ceiling. "They're gorgeous."

"I would rather have stayed exactly as I was," Grace growled dismissively, "than to force my son and nephew to go through all of that."

Chuck shrugged again. "That's not how it works," he replied simply.

"Um," Sam spoke up, close to raising his hand for attention. "Where is Serra? And, shouldn't we be concerned?"

Cas stood, tilting his head. "She went through the Gate Everett made," he explained. "She took Delilah to Hell."

Nodding, Chuck smiled lightly. "Serendipity is a fantastic Warrior of Heaven. Maybe the best I've ever made," he smiled, bending down towards Santiago and Tulley. "She has my permission to punish Delilah in any way she chooses. I've had about enough of her."

"She won't punish her," I commented, shaking my head. "She'll kill her."

Chuck sighed, closing his eyes as he rested his hands on Santiago's face and shoulder. "So be it," he replied. "I've had enough of Delilah's defiance." There was a blue glow from under the hunter, then, with a gasp, Santiago sat straight up, ready for a fight. Chuck grinned childishly at him. "It's all good, man. You're okay."

Grace's eyes flooded with tears as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Oh, no worries," Chuck replied, moving to Tulley.

"I wasn't talking to you," Grace turned, narrowing her eyes at Chuck. "I was thanking Santiago for being ready to sacrifice everything."

"Woah," I muttered, walking to Grace to move her away from Chuck. "Maybe cool it a bit."

"No," Grace pouted. "I have been asking him to come for _months_ , even before I was killed," she glared again at Chuck. "But until today, there was nothing. Seems a little unfair."

"Grace," I shook my head, trying to think of something to calm her down. "Come on, he's here now. It'll be okay."

She whipped around, her blonde hair falling behind her shoulders. "The boys had been away from us for months; who knows what they have done to them. The kids had to go through me _dying_ , Dean. How is any of that okay?"

"They knew you weren't dead," I argued. "I thought you were, but the girls never wavered. No harm, no foul."

Grace's eyes narrowed to slits and I physically took a step back in surprise.

With another gasp, Tulley took a deep breath, joining the land of the living once more. "What is happened about me?" he asked, looking a little loopy.

"Hi," Chuck grinned. "Welcome back."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Serra

We landed hard in the dirt of a long hall, lit only by torches. There was no one around, and quickly, I got to my feet, dragging Delilah by her hair to a standing position. "Welcome home," I grunted, leading her down the hall. "Let's find you a room so you can get comfortable."

"You really think you have me beaten?" Delilah laughed, rolling her eyes as she tried to dust herself off. "We're in foreign territory, sweetheart," she smiled. "You have no idea what to do or where to go down here."

"It's a good thing I do," Crowley's voice echoed through the darkness.

Delilah whipped around, ripping out plenty of red hair as she fought against the hold I had on her scalp. "You," she snarled. "Traitor."

"This is your own fault," Crowley continued, "I told you not to trust anyone. That included me."

Wide eyed terror began to trickle through Delilah's face, realizing that I was in control even though we were walking through the halls of Hell. "Take a good look," I began, gesturing to the room we entered, "because this is where you'll be taking your final breaths." I turned to smile at Delilah, a calm surrounding me that settled right into my gut. I was finally getting my way. "You end here."

"You're not going to torture me," Delilah rolled her eyes as I pulled her into a sitting position onto the chair in the middle of the room.

Still smiling, I tilted my head. "I guess that goes to show how little you know about me."

…

Grace

"And what to do with you," I muttered, approaching the group of women in the sigil, cowering as I grew closer. I stared at Sabina, searching her thoughts as they ran wildly through her head. She seemed almost confused, like she had been acting on someone else's orders and wasn't entirely sure how she got here.

Delilah's reach and spell work had been powerful, and though I still didn't forgive Sabina for putting us through the mess that she helped create, I didn't have the need to kill her. Serra might feel differently, but she wasn't here. Taking a deep breath, I put my hands on my hips and tried to decide what to do with the witches that had helped almost destroy my family.

"Erase their memories and let them go," Chuck murmured as he approached my side. "Essentially, they're innocent in all of this; just pawns in Delilah's plan to take over the universe."

I turned to stare at him and took a deep breath, realizing that I was face to face with the Creator himself. "Is this why you let me live?" I asked softly, turning to face him. "After Dean and I got married. Is this endgame the reason you called off the angels?"

Chuck continued to inspect the witches in the twine trap and acted as if he hadn't heard me, though I knew different. I didn't repeat myself, but instead, took a slow breath through my nose and waited.

"No," he finally answered, turning to make an apologetic expression. "Your children are most of the reason," he explained, "but I'm sure you'll come in handy a few more times now that you've hit your stride." He pulled a bag of peanuts out of his pockets and opened them, digging to find a couple and toss them into his mouth. As he crunched, Chuck raised his eyebrows excitedly and added, "And your sister! She's a real treat."

"And you're okay with her killing Delilah," I added. "Because it's probably happening right now."

Chuck shrugged, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth. "She's got some torture up her sleeves, but it's nothing close to what Delilah actually deserves. I'll let Serra have her fun, but then, Delilah's going to have to answer to me either on this plane or the next."

"Where does an angel go when its been killed?" I asked, hesitant to know the answer.

"Wherever it needs to go," Chuck answered, turning towards me and grinning as he chewed another handful of peanuts. "In this case, Delilah will be locked in Purgatory until I decide to let her out and have a chat. After that, we'll figure out what her eternity of punishment will be."

I could sense Dean approach from behind me and as I stared at Chuck with my mouth hanging open, Dean rested his hand on my hip. I could feel my anxiety soften as I closed my eyes, turning towards my husband and wrapping my arms around his shoulders into a hug.

Chuck closed his bag of peanuts and stuffed them back into his pocket and clapped once. "See? That's romance. I do love a good love story." He scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "That was always the hardest part of writing our story! How much romance do I actually include? Do I need to be descriptive?"

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "Please don't," he muttered, turning to shake Tulley's hand. "How you doin'? You okay, man?"

Tulley shook his head in disbelief. "I would like to be going home to my wolves, now," he commented, running his hands over his neck and taking slow breaths, as if testing to make sure he was actually alive. "They do not give me nearly so much of the troubles."

Dean slowly released the lungful of air he held and rubbed the bruises that were blossoming over his wrists. Looking down at me, he licked his lips and searched for the apology that welled in his chest. "Gracie," he started, still shaking his head.

"I know," I offered, closing my eyes. "It wasn't your fault. It was the Mark," I took his face in both of my hands, searching his eyes. "You would never knowingly put any of us in danger. Delilah decided to take it to the next level."

From behind me, Santiago stood quietly, staring at his hands and looking around in amazement. "All of this," he began, "this is all so incredible. I can hardly believe the things that I am seeing, even though I witness them with my own eyes."

"I know," I replied, reaching out to take his hand, while still holding Dean. "I'm hoping that this is as crazy as it ever gets."

…

Serra

Crowley had promised me as much time as I wanted, free from interruption and attack during my time in Hell. This time, though, I doubt anyone or anything would have been able to stop me from what I was about to do.

Unloading the weapons from my clothes and holsters, I laid out four different sized blades, all made from the Weapons' Stone metal, the Weapons' Stone knuckles (one of my personal favorites), my twin black-on-silver Colt forty-fives, a dainty nine-millimeter Beretta, and the bullets I had left over from our fight across Minnesota's coastline while being chased by Hellhounds and Shadow Demons while trying to keep my family alive.

I locked my teeth together and took a deep breath through my nose, steadying the rage that boiled inside my chest; sour and hot. "I'm gonna be honest with you, Delilah," I began, not yet facing her. "This is gonna hurt a little."

Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Delilah rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes," she mocked from her place in the dungeon chair, chained in place in the middle of an angel trap, surrounded by holy fire. "Let's get it on so I can get back to work."

"There's no work after this," I answered, taking two of the blades in my hands, weighing them comparatively and deciding on the smaller of the two. "There's nothing after this. Chuck has given me his blessing."

"Chuck?" Delilah repeated, sounding worried for the first time. "Who's Chuck?" She hesitated for a moment as I turned to face her, considering where to start. Delilah's face smoothed as she realized who I was talking about, "Wait, Father? Are you talking about Father?"

I simply stared at her, blinking slowly as she processed what was about to happen.

For the first time, Delilah looked wounded, as if I had slapped her across the face. "He spoke to you?" she asked. "He actually said something to you?"

"He has in the past," I replied, approaching her. "Right now, he's having a whole conversation with my sister, husband, and brother-in-law. You're up shit creek." I leaned closer to her, leaning on the armrests of the chair Delilah was bound to. "By the time I'm done, you'll be begging to die."

Delilah steeled herself, her resolve found. "I don't _beg_ for anything," she whispered.

"We'll see."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Serra

I walked around to Delilah's back, running the largest of my pocket-sized knives along the shoulders of her leather jacket, splitting the seams as I did. "I think we'll start with the basics," I declared, taking a handful of Delilah's rich, curled red hair. "You won't need this."

With a deft slice from my blade, I took off a chunk of curls and allowed them to fall to the dirt. Another followed, then another; Delilah remained silent, though I know it killed her to see her hair hit the floor below her. "I hear these blades are sharp," I whispered, running the tip down her scalp, splitting her skin delicately as I ran it along the edge of her ear, then towards her forehead. As blood sprang to the surface, so did an icy blue glow, proving that Delilah was all angel. She closed her eyes and began muttering in a language I didn't recognize, but I wasn't worried. There was nothing she would be able to do to me while in the trap.

As she cast the spell, a ball of dark red fire erupted in her lap, forcing me to take a step back, watching it carefully. The spell obviously was unable to do what it was meant to, and Delilah's frustration got the better of her as she snarled at me. I stared down at the fire and was consumed with the desire to touch it, so going with my gut, like I usually did, I opened my palm and pushed it physically back towards Delilah's chest.

Panic touched her face for the first time as I stared into her eyes. "Torture is too nice of a word," I whispered as I pressed the fire into Delilah's chest. "They'll have to come up with something new to describe what I do to you."

The dark red flames did as I commanded, though I didn't understand why. Maybe it was my rage, maybe it was the fact that I was still hopped up on Sammy's blood; hell, maybe it was that I was a Browning and therefore had angel blood in me, but whatever it was, the flames of the curse didn't touch me. I didn't even feel their heat.

Delilah did.

She bit back the first round of screams, refusing to make a sound as the flames connected with her skin, burning away her clothes and creating a wound the size of a grapefruit, but then I realized that the dark red fire wasn't dissipating or dying out at all. If anything, the more fear and anguish Delilah showed, the more powerful they became. I dug my heels in and pressed the fire physically into her chest and for the first time, Delilah screamed.

"There," I whispered into her ear as I pressed forcibly onto her chest, "now we're getting somewhere."

The flames disappeared into her body and in moments, I could see the damage they were causing as they travelled through the angel's body, leaving a blackened trail through her arms and neck.

"That was a helluva spell," I pursed my lips. "Shame it didn't work how you wanted it to."

Almost immediately, the blackened trail began to peel, and it didn't take me much time to realize the whole path could be pulled away from Delilah's body, causing as much damage as I chose to inflict. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together, trying to keep her cries of anguish to herself, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. I took my tiny blade and lifted the charred flesh from her arm, peeling a layer of dermis from her neck. "Wow," I muttered, licking my lips and dropping it to the ground. "I do believe I told you that I would peel the flesh from your bones."

Delilah screamed again, gritting her teeth as the ball of dark red flames continued to travel through her body, lighting her from the inside. I hoped that they wouldn't kill her, though, because I was just getting started.

I stood back, watching the fire burn slowly, and as I stared, the curse of red flames somehow made it through her chest and out through her back, suddenly igniting something behind her. Gasping, I realized that her wings were burning. I couldn't help the wry grin that slid across my face. "Really," I muttered, shaking my head, "you're doing all the work for me."

As Delilah's curse traveled through the veins of her wings, I watched as nothing more than embers remained. I hadn't been able to see her wings before, but now that they had been hit with her own cursed fire, there they were, towering above us, ashes floating down onto what was left of her red hair.

Hot, angry tears streamed down her face as she screamed in pain. "Hurts, huh?" I asked, turning towards the table of weapons. "Kind of like when you sent a tornado to kill me." I picked up the Weapons' Stone knuckles and the tiny two-inch blade. "Getting an oak tree pushed through my spine and lungs had a similar effect."

I walked up to the angel with purpose, barely slowing down as I crossed the holy flames keeping her in the circle, winding up and slamming my fist into her face. Delilah grunted in pain, doubling over and coughing blood. As she bent, I pushed the two-inch knife into her side, getting a scream of pain as a result. I smiled.

"That's it," I whispered into her ear. "Let me hear you."

…

Dean

"Should I be concerned that Serra hasn't come back yet?" Sammy leaned over to me, whispering in my ear. "I'm starting to get a little concerned."

I shook my head, patting my brother on the shoulder. "Look at Grace," I answered, gesturing to the group of angels at the front end of the church as they prepared to wipe the witches' memories. "Grace isn't worried, so you shouldn't be. It's not like Grace would let Serra into a situation like that without chasing after her if there was something to worry about." I shrugged, "Serra's fine."

Grace turned from the group and walked towards us, patting Tulley on the arm as she passed. "We can start thinking about packing it up. I'm gonna go home for a sec to make sure that Everett is okay and tell them we're on our way home."

I lifted my eyebrows, tilting my head, "Gonna go home for a sec?" I asked. "What?"

"Oh, we have some stories for you," Sam answered, shaking his head. "The stunt the girls just pulled..." Sam faded away and shook his head. "By the way, the Chevelle pulls to the right a bit," he continued, chuckling. "Looks like it needs an alignment."

Pressing her lips together, Grace made an apologetic face, "Yeah," she continued, "I can jump from place to place on command, like the angels now. Something tells me that I'm not gonna shit right for a week."

"You're starting to sound like me," I replied, shaking my head slowly as my wife's new set of skills. "Yeah, okay. Tell him I miss him and that I'll see him soon."

Grace nodded and disappeared on the spot.

Pursing my lips, I lifted my eyebrows and turned to my brother. "That's gonna take some getting used to," I muttered.

"Yeah," Sammy replied, "and she can reappear in a moving car, doing about eighty."

"What?"

Sam held up his hand, closing his eyes and shaking me off, "We'll talk."

Tulley, Santiago, Cas, and Lucia began taking the twine sigil apart from around the women, who were passed out in a neat arrangement on the carpet as Chuck looked on. The angels had done what they needed to, erasing memories and easing them into sleep so that we could put them each in their own location, separating them enough to hopefully not interact once they woke up. We couldn't be taking any chances.

…

Serra

Delilah was bleeding profusely from a wound on her back and two more in her chest, and apparently, the fire curse that had backfired onto her own body was still burning her from the inside, because now, the bright red hair that was left from my brutal hair cut was blackened and burnt, leaving a charred scalp underneath. She was out of breath, panting slightly, but refusing to make much more noise than she had before.

"Now," I sighed, walking towards the table where my knives were laid out neatly. "I think we're about even for the tornado, but," I pursed my lips and tilted my head, thinking. "There's still the matter of taking my son and nephew."

Delilah's pale eyes flicked up towards me, though she still remained silent.

"Taking the boys…well," I paused and picked up my favorite kukri blade. I held it up, admiring the gleam of the silver, haunting and deadly in the torch light. "That was kind of what put me over the edge, you know?"

I lowered the knife under Delilah's chin, using the blade to push her head up so she was staring back at me, under heavy-lidded eyes. Ever so slowly, I drug the blade along the edge of her jaw, bringing out the blood and blue glow that I expected. Squeezing her eyes shut, for the first time, Delilah let out a gasp of air and a single word.

"Please," she whispered.

Freezing in place, I lowered my head, closer to the angel. "I'm sorry," I replied, mockingly. "What was that?"

"Please," Delilah repeated. "Please just kill me."

"I told you I'd make you beg." Pressing my lips together, I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. I turned, lifting an eyebrow towards Crowley. "Well," I began. "That was a lot sooner than I expected."

Crowley nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes. "I wouldn't trust her," he answered, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He smiled lightly, making eye contact with Delilah, "I should have told you, I know," he continued, approaching the ring of Holy Fire. "But Serendipity and I, we have a bit of a history." Crowley glanced at me and grinned, shooting me a roguish wink. "I spent quite a bit of time inside her."

"God, I need a shower," I muttered, shaking my head. "Don't say it like that." I turned my attention back to my prisoner. "You want me to what now?"

Delilah seemed limp; leaning to one side and hardly able to hold herself upright. "I want you to kill me," she whispered, coughing once for good measure. "You've had your fun. I've been betrayed by everyone I know, so you might as well end it."

I leaned closer to Delilah, still holding my kukri blade under her chin. "If you think I'm ever going to feel sorry for you, guess again."

Using my free hand, I reached out to Delilah's shoulder, planning on righting her position in the chair, but instead of being able to push her shoulder back into position, my hand went right through her, almost as if her shoulder was ash. Pulling my hand back quickly, I gasped and turned to Crowley. "What's happening?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes once more, staring at the mark I left on the angel's shoulder. "I have no idea," he whispered. "I suppose this is what happens when a spell rebounds onto yourself."

More out of curiosity than anything, I reached out to Delilah once more, this time my hand went for her arm. Just as before, my hand met no resistance, and the rest of her arm collapsed into ash. "You're already dead," I whispered. "You took all the fun out of it."

Delilah forced her eyes to stare up at me once more. "Just because I'm gone doesn't mean there won't be another," she whispered. "They will force the Gates open at one point or another." She coughed again, looking pathetic. "I was just the first wave. Your family will never be safe."

Setting my jaw, I took the kukri blade by the hilt with both of my hands and pressed it into Delilah's throat, more easily than it should have been. Immediately, Delilah's head fell back, sending white light from ever remaining orifice. I forced myself to keep my eyes open and watch her die, and finally, she collapsed into a heap of flesh, bone, and ash. I pushed on the top of her charred head and her entire body exploded into a burst of gray powder on the ground, outlining her body and what was left of her wings.

"That bitch killed herself so I wouldn't get to torture her as long," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'll bet that curse wasn't meant for me, even."

Crowley shrugged from where he stood. "Perhaps," he cautioned. "Perhaps not. I'm just happy to see her finished."

"So, she is, right? She's not going to make it back by some spell or miracle?" I asked, still clutching my kukri blade. "The Big Bads always seem to make a comeback."

"From where I stand," Crowley sighed, "it's finished."

Nodding, I turned back towards the table of knives and began to pack up my things, intent on getting back home to my babies. Crowley's voice caught my attention once more.

"She's right, though," he cautioned. "Delilah."

"About what?" I asked, turning towards him, glaring.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if considering what he was about to tell me. "If it's not Delilah, it will be someone else. Then someone else." Crowley shrugged. "Then someone else. Your sister's children are talented creatures, as you might have already guessed. Having that kind of power tends to bring out the ones who want to control it."

"I guess that's why I'm a Warrior of Fucking Heaven," I replied, shrugging.

"It'll be bigger than that, you know."

"How?"

Crowley approached me, "Controlling the Gates is controlling the ethereal plane, on multiple levels. It's the beginning and end of all mankind. It's having the ability to imprison or free the very creatures that could destroy entire universe." He pursed his lips. "That's a lot of power for a group of children."

I considered him for a moment, then tied the leather strap around my roll of blades, shrugging. "They won't always be kids," I began, "and they're Winchesters."

"That's what I'm afraid of."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Dean

Waiting for Grace to get back was harder than it should have been. I knew she could handle her own, and I knew she knew what she was doing, but old habits. I paced around the church, the angels watching me intently as I circled around towards the witches again.

"She's exquisite," a voice commented behind me.

Stopping mid stride, I turned to face Chuck, who was standing sheepishly behind me with his hands in his pockets. "Who, Grace?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He nodded, taking a step forward. "Yeah," Chuck agreed. "Now I know I did the right thing in pardoning her."

I blinked slowly, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to remain where I stood. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sammy take a protective step towards me, wondering how fast I would get pissed. "You're taking credit for her, huh?" I asked, keeping my voice measured. "You're gonna be the hero, here?"

Chuck shrugged, "Well," he raised his eyebrows and smiled shyly. "I am the Lord."

I broke eye contact immediately, feigning a smile and staring at the choir loft. "Right," I agreed, doing my best to stay controlled. "Look," Sammy took another step towards me, holding out his hand, warning me to stay calm. I shook him off. "My wife has been through the ringer and I would appreciate a little more credit where credit is due."

Smiling lightly, Chuck asked, "What do you mean?"

Turning towards the angels, I took another slow, measured breath. "I've seen a lot of shit in my time. We're best friends with angels, my kids are Gatekeepers. My wife is Nephilim. Ten, fifteen years ago, I wouldn't have believed a word of it, but lemme tell you something." I licked my lips. "Grace is one of a kind. She exists because of some greater plan, sure, okay, but her decisions and path are hers alone. She decided to come back so that she could save our kid. She made that choice, not you." I clenched my teeth together, trying to speak as calmly as I could. "You call yourself 'The Lord', but all you like to do is show up when it's convenient for you, so you look like the good guy."

Chuck pursed his lips and shrugged. "It was all part of the plan," he explained. "Delilah has been a problem for millennia, and I knew it would be Serendipity and Grace that would bring her down. I had to wait quite a while for that too."

"You just said that you're God," I sighed, exasperated. "So why not come down here and solve the problem yourself? Just get the job done and move on with your life?"

Licking his lips, Chuck turned to glance at Sam and then finally took a step towards me, moving slower than necessary. "Dean," he sighed, "I know this all seems like it was unnecessary, but each step is like a domino, tipping over the next piece towards the finale. If I hadn't let Grace and Serendipity go after Delilah, Grace would have never been killed. She would have never had to force her way through that struggle and come to realize her true potential." He brought one of his hands out of his pockets to gesture, "Killing her was the only way to force her to realize how powerful she is."

"You said she was off limits, that she had a destiny."

"Delilah wasn't exactly taking orders," Chuck made a face, apologetic. "It's why I'm here."

I licked my lips again, glancing up at Sammy, shaking my head in disbelief. "Then," I took a careful breath, not wanting to spook Chuck into leaving before I was done asking questions. "Now that she's 'mature' in her abilities…what does that mean? What destiny does she have?"

"If you're asking if you're going to lose her, I can't answer that," Chuck answered. "The whole Winchester line has been in my plan from the beginning. Having the Brownings get some angel blood along the way was just a spectacular happenstance. You will all be unstoppable against what's coming."

Sam finally spoke, standing just behind Chuck. "What's coming?" He glanced up at me and I shrugged in response. "What more could there be? We've faced so much. We just wanted to—"

"Live a normal life?" Chuck shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Sammy. You guys are lifers."

With that, Chuck winked and disappeared on the spot.

…

Grace

I appeared in my living room, mildly disoriented. Bouncing back and forth made me dizzy and momentarily wondered if the real, full blood angels dealt with this when they did the same thing. I doubted it.

"Jody!" I shouted into the house, wondering where everyone was. "Bill?"

The intercom buzzed at the basement stairwell. "We're down here," Jody's voice came over the speaker. "Figured it couldn't hurt keeping everyone behind a sigil-protected door."

I smiled, so grateful for Jody and the time she and Emery had spent with my kids, keeping them from harm. "I'm gonna punch in the code," I replied through the speaker.

"Hi, Momma!" I heard a choir of Winchester children yell through the intercom. "Hi, Auntie!" Levi added, once he got his turn.

Grinning, I pressed the six-digit code and the door popped, unsealing itself. In a rush, all my kids came running towards me, almost knocking me down. Everett was among them, now clean with wet hair and bright eyes, happy as he could be now that he was home. Levi, Faith, and Charlie were behind the first group; the girls gripping his hands as they stood shakily next to him. The babies weren't walking yet, but they were close, I was sure of it.

"Oh my god, it is so good to see you all together," I sighed, tears stinging my eyes. "You're okay, Ev?" He nodded, grinning. "Are you sure?" I collapsed into the middle of the pile of kids and opened my arms, everyone falling into my lap. "Oh, baby, I was so scared," I continued, pulling Everett to my chest as the girls leaned against my back and shoulders.

Glancing up at Jody and Bill, I gave a watery grin. Jody looked the same as I did, her hands clutched together against her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Turning to Levi and the babies, I gestured with my hand, "Baby, get in here. All of you," I closed my arms around all six children and closed my eyes, feeling more complete than I had in months. "I love you all so much. I'm so glad you're safe."

Levi pulled away from me, just enough to see my face. "Where's Momma?" he whispered.

Another set of tears overflowed in my eyes, spilling down my shirt. "She's okay," I answered, holding him closer. "She's safe. I'm just the only one that can bounce back and forth like Cas and Lucia."

Lib nodded, knowingly. "She learned," she explained, looking up at Jody and Bill. "Momma learned how to use all of her abilities."

"It's about time," Billy replied, flicking his brown eyes towards me. "Been waiting all this time."

"You and I are gonna have a real long talk," I muttered, getting up from the floor. "Okay," I continued, dusting myself off. "I'm glad everyone is safe. Delilah is dead, the witches' memories are erased, and we're gonna clean up the church and get back on the road."

"You're going back?" Everett asked, looking concerned.

I stared down at my son. "I can stay if you want me to," I whispered, bending down to his level. "I won't ever leave you alone again if you don't want me to."

Everett's blue eyes searched my face, wondering if I was telling the truth. I knew his abilities had been growing on their own over the last few months, but it was eye opening to see them in action. I could feel his mind push towards my walls, seeking the real story in my mind. When he saw that I wasn't lying, he took a deep breath. "No," he whispered, "it's okay. You go help with Daddy and Auntie and Uncle Sammy."

"Really, Ev," I pressed. "I can stay, and they can come home on their own."

"I'm home now," Everett answered. "I'm safe and you'll be home in about twelve hours."

Nodding, I sighed. "A little less, even. It's the truth."

"Daddy is worried that you're not back yet," Everett answered. "I can hear you. He can't. I'll be okay."

I grinned at my son, stronger than I would ever be. "I know you will, love."


	31. Chapter 31

::What a ride. This is the last chapter of _Ashes_ and it was amazingly fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to hear what you think. Please leave a review! Coming up, I have a couple of fun stories that are still on the Winchester Ranch timeline, but are not nearly as serious as this story arc. I hope you'll stick around. We'll have some fun.

Love and internetty hugs,

::TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo::

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Chapter 31

Serra

"Well, that was a letdown," I whispered, taking a deep breath and dusting off my hands as I looked up at Crowley. "I guess this is it," I continued, staring the demon down. "We go our separate ways and you never contact my family again."

"Where's the fun in that?" Crowley replied, a wry grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Approaching him slowly, I took a breath through my nose. "Go ahead and doubt me, Crowley. If I catch wind that you're anywhere near my family, truce is off."

Rolling his eyes, Crowley sighed heavily. "Truce," he repeated, shaking his head. "I miss the old days, back when we never stopped trying to kill each other, or when I got to wear you like my favorite dinner jacket." He gave me a once over and smiled wickedly. "So far, you've been my favorite meat suit. I'll always hold a special place in my heart for my dear Serendipity."

I feigned a gagging face and involuntarily shuddered. "God, I need a shower," I muttered under my breath. "Grace?" I turned, asking the air around me. "I'd like to come back to Wisconsin, now."

Without another moment's hesitation, a spiraling orange oval opened next to me, patiently waiting. "See you around, Crowley. Just know, I'm always packin', especially after this whole escapade."

"Noted," his accented drawl came behind me. "Give your sister my warm regards."

…

Serra

"And you saw everyone together," I repeated for what seemed like the twelfth time. "All the kids? They're all safe?"

Grace turned and rolled her eyes, nodding again. "Yes," she answered, amazingly still patient with my endless line of questioning. "They're all together in the panic room with Jody and Bill, who, by the way, had an open bottle of wine when I bounced to check on them." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "They seem to be pretty comfortable with each other."

I made a face but shrugged, dismissing it. "I wanna go home to my babies," I muttered. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

We were packed up and ready to go in a matter of twenty minutes, waiting impatiently for Dean and Grace so we could get on the road. It seemed like the had been hugging or making out for the last half hour or so, and I was getting a little sick of it.

"What's the matter with you?" Sammy asked as he raised his eyebrows. "You've been staring at them longer than necessary."

"I wanna go," I whined, turning towards my husband. "They can make out when we get home."

Sam turned to smile at his brother and my sister, still locked in their embrace as Tulley and Santiago started their engines to get back on the road. He shrugged, smirking as he turned back to me, "I dunno, it's kinda cute," he commented quietly. "He thought she was dead about a week ago."

"Yeah, well," I clicked my tongue. "They can do whatever they want when we get back to Lawrence."

Grace turned to me and shook her head, rolling her eyes for effect. "We're going, we're going," she muttered, untangling herself from Dean. He took her hand as she led him back towards the Chevelle and as I squinted into the sunlight, I was certain I caught an opalescent glow from something towering above her. I took a deep breath as I strained to see it again, but I knew that seeing Grace's wings wasn't something I'd be able to do every time I looked.

…

Serra

It was pitch black when we pulled up into the gravel driveway in front of Grace and Dean's house, just after two in the morning. I threw myself from the car and ran up the steps, two at a time, to get inside to my kids. There was nothing that would separate me from them again, without our permission.

Punching in the code to the panic room, I tiptoed into the darkness and used the screen of my phone to see where I was going. There were blow up mattresses everywhere, with kids piled up on top of each other and blankets strewn about as if they had attempted a fort, but failed miserably. Tiptoeing towards the back of the room, I smiled at Jody, who had opened her eyes enough to see that it was me.

"Made it home fast," she commented, smiling gently.

I nodded, finally seeing Levi and Charlie, sleeping together on a twin air mattress near the right side of the room. Lee was curled around his baby sister, snoring softly. "Yeah," I whispered, "new record."

Softly, I made it to my kids' mattress and bent to touch each of their faces. I didn't expect them to wake, but almost immediately, Levi and Charlotte both opened their eyes and stared right at me. I smiled down at them, brushing their hair out of their faces, and leaning close. "Hey, guys," I greeted, bending down to kiss them. "I wanted to kiss you goodnight now that I'm home."

Charlie smiled widely at me, but then almost immediately fell back to sleep. Levi, however, narrowed his eyes and asked, "You're really here?"

I nodded slowly. "I'm here, kiddo," I answered and held open my arms as my son climbed into my lap. Together, we sat on the rug, against the wall of the cement basement, and I breathed in my kid's scent, promising myself that this whole thing would never happen again. We would never again be caught unaware.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"They're still upstairs. I ran in so I could see you," I replied, tilting my head to see Lee's face more clearly. "Daddy is outside with Auntie Grace and Uncle Dean still, probably unloading."

Levi grinned suddenly, "Auntie Grace appeared here, twice!" he whispered excitedly. "She can appear and disappear!"

I smiled and nodded, holding my son close to my chest. "Yeah," I agreed. "She finally figured out how to use her abilities all the way." Pulling his arms free, Levi wrapped himself around me, breathing deeply. "I missed you so much."

"Me too, Momma," Lee whispered into my hair. "But you're home now. And we're all together."

I took a deep, ragged breath and nodded. "And that's the way it's going to stay." I kissed the top of his head and took another breath. "You're stuck with me, kiddo."

…

Dean

Once Everett had realized that we were home, he had snuck up the basement steps and found his way into the living room. Grace had noticed first and smiled gently at him, nodding her permission for him to be up. I turned to see my son, looking skinnier than I had ever seen him, but alive.

Immediately, my resolve was gone and threw myself to him, dropping to my knees and wrapping him in a tight hug. "Oh my god, I'm happy to see you, kid," I whispered into his hair, long and blond. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

Everett shook his head into my shoulder as Grace looked on. "No," he answered, "not any more than I hurt her."

I pulled my son back by the shoulders to stare into his bright blue eyes. He had changed while he was gone; his voice was stronger and his face was harder. He looked like he had aged a couple of years, though it had only been…well. It had been close to eight months that he had been gone.

"I'm sorry, Ev," I said quietly. "I'm sorry she had you for so long. I'm sorry we couldn't get to you."

Nodding slowly, Everett shrugged. "It's not like you weren't trying," he answered. "I could hear Momma. I knew you were coming."

I agreed, glancing back at Grace. "I don't know why I'm even surprised anymore," I muttered, getting to my feet. "It's good to have you home."

…

Grace

It was almost four in the morning before we got everyone back in bed and settled. Sam and Serra had taken Levi and Charlotte home for the first time in months and after closing the door to the basement, I turned to stare at my husband.

He was standing in the kitchen, leaning on the island with his arms outstretched and his head hanging as if he was stretching out his neck. Sighing, he stood up to his full height and rerolled a sleeve of his flannel. Finally, Dean took a breath and licked his lips, and turned to stare at me.

Without saying a word, I walked towards my husband and wrapped myself around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. Dean reciprocated immediately, wrapping his arms around my waist and picking me up from the floor. We kissed deeply and the lights above us flickered.

He broke away and glanced up, smiling wistfully. "You're gonna have to get that under control," he whispered. "This old house isn't gonna be able to handle you gettin' all excited all the time."

I grinned, staring up at the ceiling. "I'll figure it out," I laughed, "I think the bigger question is gonna be if _you_ can handle me gettin' all excited all the time."

"Oh, honey," Dean winked at me, forcing a giggle from me. "I look forward to it."

…

Serra

My kids were safe. My nieces and nephew were safe. I was home with my husband and we watched our son and daughter sleep from the doorway of Levi's bedroom. For the first time in months, I was starting to breathe easier. I turned towards Sammy silently and took a slow breath, staring at the beautiful profile of his face. He smiled lightly, watching the kids as they slept, forcing his dimples to show. Somehow, we had made it through this. I couldn't believe it.

I reached out gently, feeling for the tips of his fingers and he did the same immediately, linking our fingers together in the space between. Slowly, I turned, keeping Sammy's fingers linked in mine over my shoulder and gently pulled him down the hall towards our bedroom. As the door clicked shut behind him, I took a deep breath and sighed. All was well.


End file.
